The Will to Survive
by Felony Melanie
Summary: In a stunning act of bravery, Harry sacrifices himself to Voldemort in order to free Hogwarts. But now, he must face his biggest boundary yet: survival. Post Ootp completed 10 1 03
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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I merely use him for my own twisted amusement. If you do intend to sue me, however, my only defense is that I am a poor, lonely high school student in desperate need for entertainment.

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Crucio!

Harry Potter sat with his back against the cold, stone wall. His hands were tied together in front of him and were resting on his lap, his wrists bleeding freely onto his ragged robes as the boy they belonged to wondered why his life had gone so wrong. He couldn't find an answer for all of his questions, he had no one to ask, but that didn't matter now. Hogwarts had fallen to the dark arts, and Harry was one of it's prisoners, and the most pertinent subjects now was how he would stay alive.

Questions wandered through his mind every minute that he was conscious. Questions of why, how, and what if's. Other times, when the Death Eaters came into the dungeon to torture him (which was often), his mind would drift into an easy state of bliss after his mind would delve into the land of unconsciousness. It was there that he would relive the best moments of his life, and it was there that he longed to be every passing moment of his present.

"Eat."

Harry lifted his head, sending a groan down his aching back. In the darkness he could make out a cloaked figure silhouetted in the doorway before him. Something fell to the floor, and the Death Eater left. The dungeon door slammed forcefully, and Harry was left to try and locate the food morsel in the pitch dark chamber.

He pulled himself along the floor with his blood-covered hands, his legs trying to help with the movement. His ribs had been broken at one point from a blow to the chest, so his breathing was labored and it hurt to lie down in any position other than on his back. His hand touched something light, and Harry scrambled to pick it up. It was a small piece of stale bread, his usual dinner. He brought it to his lips hungrily and swallowed it in an instant, wishing he had some water. Once the Death Eaters had been kind enough to bring him some water, but he sensed that they had been punished, and no longer bothered to request any liquid.

In the darkness he crawled back to the wall and sat with his back against it. His painful gasps for air soon calmed down, and he drifted into a light, dreamless sleep.

-

"Get up you filthy boy."

Harry opened his eyes wearily. Light was flooding the room, and he squinted against it to try to see who was there.

"I said up!"

A rough, calloused hand seized Harry's arm and lifted him forcefully from the ground. He struggled to find his footing before he was slammed into the stone wall and cried out as the sharp rocks pressed into his back.

"Come."

Harry, gasping for breath, followed the man from the dungeon. His eyes were still adjusting to the light, so he stumbled once or twice while going up the stone steps. He had gone down these same stairs every day before Hogwarts fell to Voldemort. They led down to the Potions classroom where Harry and his friends would go to endure hours of taunting from their Slytherin classmates. But Harry hadn't seen that classroom once since he had been captured. He knew that classes were still held there, classes had continued at Hogwarts, but now they were to teach the students the way of the dark forces.

He had no sense of time, so he couldn't quite tell whether it was day or night until he emerged into the Entrance Hall. It was empty, and the sun was down, so Harry decided that it was either a weekend or dinner time. His suspicion was confirmed as he followed the Death Eater into the Great Hall and found it to be packed with students. A wave of silence passed over the room when Harry stepped inside. Every face in the hall was turned to him. Harry followed the Death Eater to the teacher's table where many hooded figures sat. They stopped in the center of the table, in front of the throne that had once held Albus Dumbledore, but held Voldemort now.

"The Potter boy, my lord," the Death Eater said, bowing.

"Good, Avery," Voldemort replied, his eyes on Harry. "That will be all."

Avery bowed himself away, and Harry was left standing alone. He forced himself to look back into that snake-like face, but he was beginning to get weary with the effort it had taken to get here, and he longed to be able to lie down again. He got his wish, though in completely the wrong way.

A wand emerged from Voldemort's billowing robes. "_Crucio!_" he sneered, his eyes laughing at Harry.

There was no way Harry could avoid it, no way he could block it. The best he could do was try to survive. His muscles, already weak, began burning with pain. His eyes rolled back into his head, and all he could see was darkness. His chest heaved as he tried to contain his screams, but his ribs were pulsing painfully, and he couldn't control himself much longer. He longed to just die, then he would be able to see his parents again, and Sirius, but Voldemort would never allow for that to happen. He didn't have that kind of mercy.

The curse was lifted, and Harry found himself face-down on the floor with no recollection of getting there. The coppery taste in his mouth confirmed that he had bitten his tongue, and his whole body was trembling with the after-effects of the Unforgivable.

"Stand up," Voldemort said.

He slowly got to his feet, his hands still bound in front of him. He looked back into Voldemort's face, not daring to blink too much. He refused to show his enemy weakness, he refused to ever let the Dark Lord know he had won.

"Come forward, Malfoy."

Harry was aware of footsteps behind of him, but didn't turn to look. The footsteps stopped, and he sensed someone standing just next to him.

"Remember what I taught you, Draco," Voldemort said to the man standing next to Harry.

"Yes, my lord," came the drawling voice that Harry had become so accustomed to over his five years at Hogwarts. He heard Draco move beside of him, and then Voldemort spoke again.

"Turn to face your old friend, Potter."

Sending the evilest glare he could muster in Voldemort's direction, he turned on the spot and met the rat-face of Draco Malfoy. "Hello, Ferret Boy," Harry hissed.Malfoy's face flushed and he looked to Voldemort. The Dark Lord must have nodded or something, because then Malfoy turned back to Harry slightly more confident. Harry watched those icy grey eyes. What was it that seemed so strange about them? Was it fear he saw in those once so arrogant eyes? Was Malfoy afraid of doing what he had been told to do?

Malfoy raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. "_Crucio!_"

Once again, Harry found himself writhing in pain on the floor, but the curse was lifted sooner than when Voldemort had tortured him. He looked up at Malfoy who seemed to have been standing in complete horror of what he had done.

"What is it, boy?" Voldemort demanded.

Malfoy looked back at Harry, his chest heaving.

"N-nothing, my lord," he stammered.

"Why'd you stop so soon?"

"I didn't expect it to feel like. . . _that_, lord," Malfoy said, not breaking eye-contact with Harry.

"Do it again. For longer," Voldemort ordered.

Harry watched Malfoy raise his wand again. Harry closed his eyes, and braced himself, but there was no way to prepare for the burning pain that rushed through his limbs. He felt the white-hot knives being thrust into his body, and then twisted painfully. He felt his brain pleading for it to stop, the ebb of unconsciousness eating away at it's edges. Harry's screams echoed through the hall, and slowly it began to fade away before the curse was lifted.

"Good. You may take your seat again."

Malfoy moved away, leaving Harry panting for breath on the floor.

Voldemort spoke to the whole school. "Lord Voldemort rewards those who obey him and punishes those who resist him. As you can see here tonight, Malfoy, who has remained loyal to me since his father died, is being rewarded by punishing the famous Harry Potter who nearly died trying to save this Mudblood-loving school. Those who resist me never win. May both of these boys serve as an example to those of you thinking of rebelling." He turned to Harry. "Having second thoughts about your chosen path, Potter?" he sneered.

Harry raised himself shakily to his knees. "No," he said defiantly, "Tom."

Voldemort ordered that Harry be taken out of his sight, and two Death Eaters rushed forward, grabbing Harry underneath his arms. He was dragged down several flights of stairs until they reached the dungeon he was kept in, where he was roughly thrown in, his head cracking against the wall.

-

_Harry was going across some water in a boat that was moving without any engine and with no one rowing. The cool wind played across his face, and the salty aroma lingered in his nostrils. He was next to a giant of a man who was currently reading the newspaper. . . ._

His feet rose from the grassy slopes of Hogwarts. An odd sensation swooped down into his stomach as he soared above the students all clutching broomsticks. . . .

He was in a dormitory, gazing wide-eyed at a pile of presents stacked high at the end of his bed. He scrambled over to them, eager to open his first Christmas presents ever. . . .

He was sitting in a car who's tires were skimming a wide stretch of cloud. The boy in the drivers seat passed him a toffee. . . .

Oliver Wood was raising the Quidditch Cup into the air. The crowd roared with approval, and Harry knew this was the best moment of his life. . . .

He would be leaving the Dursleys forever. He would be off to live with his godfather. He would never have to go back to Privet Drive again. . . .

He was watching his first ever professional Quidditch game. Victor Krum had just gone into a vicious dive with Aidan Lynch on his tail. . . .

A squat figure was running off into the sunset with Peeves the Poltergeist wacking her alternately with a walking stick and sock filled with chalk. . . .

And Harry Potter slept on, willing his brain not to wake him up, urging his limbs not to scream out in pain again. And the world was just a dream again. A dream absent of Death Eaters and Unforgivable Curses, of Voldemort and dungeons, but filled with hot summer days and laughter with his friends.

-

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A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated. I gained inspiration for this story from many other fanfictions out there illustrating what might have happened had Voldemort won the war. I do not intend to copy anyone's work, and if I have in fact done so in any way, please tell me and the apologies will begin.


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Disclaimer: In chapter 1

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A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed. I think this chapter will answer a few of your questions. If you are confused about anything that I write, ask me in a review and I will either a) try to answer it in the story or b) explain it in an Authors Note. 

This chapter has mild violence in it, and I tried to keep it so I wouldn't have to raise the rating, but if you think it's too much for a PG13 story, let me know and I'll change it. 

Enjoy.

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Barely There

Hermione Granger held the mug of hot chocolate between her trembling hands. The blizzard outside prevented her from doing anything but staying inside the tiny cabin with the other survivors, and it made her angry not to be able to occupy her time. It had been a few months since they had to flee from Hogwarts, and had been that same amount of time since anyone had seen Harry alive. _If_ he was still alive. . . .

Nothing was certain, and no one knew for sure whether a rescue maneuver was worth it. But nothing could be attempted until the weather improved. They had to wait for a few more months before they could return to the castle.

Hermione brought the steaming mug to her lips, and heard the distant groan of the roof sagging under the weight of the snow. Sleet lashed at the windows of the kitchen she was sitting in, and the many cracks in the cabin allowed the icy wind to penetrate into their hide-out. For this reason, the fire always stayed burning and the inhabitants always stayed bundled under layers of jackets.

Dumbledore had told them that Voldemort wouldn't kill Harry, that he would first demonstrate his power by punishing the Boy Who Lived. Hermione had sobbed at the thought. She couldn't imagine what Harry was going through. . . he had been so brave when Voldemort had entered the castle. . . .

-

They had just settled down for the Beginning of the Year Feast. The Sorting had just ended, and Dumbledore was due to give his annual speech. Harry had been rather quiet on the train ride, and Hermione saw that he was lost in thought now, gazing at the head table. But then she saw him cringe in pain and clasp his hands to his forehead. He turned and gave her a terrified glance that chilled her insides.

The Hall doors burst open, and screams filled the air. Wave after wave of hooded Death Eaters filled into the hall, some seizing teachers, others seizing students. Harry drew his wand, and Hermione and Ron followed his lead. Then, robes billowing, a figure appeared in the doorway. Hermione saw Harry gasping in pain, one hand still on his scar, but also saw the determined look in his eye. He kept his wand raised though five other wands were pointed at his own heart. A deathly silence swept over the hall as every one of the students turned to the newest arrival.

Lord Voldemort emerged from the shadows. He had his wand raised in the direction of Dumbledore, and moved swiftly to the front of the room.

"This is the end of Hogwarts," his icy voice hissed to the hall. "Those who wish to join me do so now, and the slaughter can begin."

There had been a moment that seemed like an eternity when the entire hall was still. And then, a chair scraped. 

Every head turned to the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy had just stood up. The 6th year Slytherin Prefect strode to the front of the room, proudly. Hermione watched Dumbledore's expression as the student stopped next to Voldemort. She saw the tiniest movement in Dumbledore's face, and he seemed to motion to someone. Next moment, Professor Snape strode around the table to join Voldemort as well. The Hall was soon filled with movement and students joined the growing group of people standing beside Voldemort. Hermione was proud to see that no one from the Gryffindor Table had moved a muscle, but instead had remained with their wands raised.

Voldemort's eyes locked on Harry, and Hermione saw the glint of anger in Harry's eyes as he forced himself to look the Dark Lord in the face. 

Voldemort's lip curled. "Kill them," he said simply.

"NO!"

Hermione tried to stop him, but Harry sprinted to the front of the room, stopping facing Voldemort.

"You can take me. Instead of the rest of the school. I'll let you do with me as you wish."

A sob escaped Hermione's lips, and Ron's hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"You know as well as I do that some of these students here could kill a large portion of your army," Harry continued. "If you let them go, none of these Death Eaters will be hurt. But you'll still have me. I am what you've been wanting these long years, aren't I, Tom?"

There was a moment where red eyes looked into green, and Voldemort seemed to make his decision.

"Get your mudblood filth out of here, Dumbledore, before I change my mind," Voldemort said. Dumbledore rose, and spoke to the school.

"Keep your wands lowered. You will follow me out of the school. Do not go back to your house common rooms for any reason."

Slowly, trembling, Hermione let her wand hand fall to her side. Her body was in shock as she watched Harry throw his wand to the Dark Lord's feet. Voldemort raised his wand and put it against Harry's forehead.

"_Crucio!_" 

The agonizing screams followed Hermione out of the hall as they left the warmth of the school that had been their home for the past five years.

-

A hand on Hermione's shoulder pulled her from her thoughts. Looking up, she saw the weary face of her red-headed best friend.

"Hi, Ron," she said quietly.

"Dumbledore's just sent a message," he said, pulling out a chair to sit on.

Hermione stopped in the process of bringing the mug to her lips again and looked at Ron.

"He says Snape contacted him just now. Harry's still alive," the boy said, watching as a flicker of hope ignited in Hermione's eyes.

"How does he know?" she whispered, shocked.

Here, the redhead faltered and looked away. "They. . . erm. . . they brought Harry in front of the school at dinner. . . to torture him. Snape says he was in a bad shape. . . ."

There was a crash as Hermione's hot chocolate slipped from her fingers and the porcelain shattered on the floor. She took no notice of the mess as fresh tears slid down her face. Ron put an arm around her to comfort her, but his own eyes were watery.

"We shouldn't have let him do that," she said after a while.

"We couldn't have done anything. Harry sacrificed himself to save us all. He saved hundreds of lives."

Hermione understood, but she wished it had turned out differently. He had looked so scared when his scar had burned. "He doesn't deserve this, Ron," she sobbed.

"I know he doesn't," Ron said, squeezing Hermione's shoulders. "No one does."

-

Harry groaned as someone grabbed him roughly by the arms and lifted him to his feet. He had a horrible throbbing headache. The person lifted his arms above his head and used the rope binding them together to hang Harry on an iron hook above his head that had been put in the wall for the purpose of keeping him standing. His muscles still burned from the most recent punishment, though he wasn't sure how long ago that had been. He knew he had been unconscious, but he didn't know for how long. All that he knew was that he hadn't wanted to wake up from his dreams. Death was better than this hell.

He opened his eyes wearily and saw several Death Eaters moving around excitedly. His arms were already beginning to protest from being kept above his head like that.

_Great_, Harry thought, closing his eyes again, _another beating_. . . .

It had become a ritual for Death Eaters to come down here to release their rage on the thin frame of the 16 year old boy. Some used belts to lash his sides, others used leather whips with metal spikes on the end, and others used their hands and feet. They had broken his ribs long ago when one of them had decided to use him as a punching bag.

There was one rule set for his beatings. Harry wasn't allowed to cry out. If he did, the torture would continue for longer. The Death Eaters could do whatever they wanted as long as they didn't kill him. They would never let him just die.

And so it began, each lash of the belt opening another wound on his bruised body, Harry only allowing one whimper to escape his parched lips. It went on for an hour or so when the Death Eater abandoned the belt and his fist connected with Harry's stomach. A few minutes later, Harry was lifted from the hook and he fell to the ground. The dungeon door slammed, and Harry allowed the tears to fall now. He had no way to nurse his wounds, and many of the previous cuts had become infected, reopening with the recent lashes. Not that he could feel much of them, however. His arms were numb from lack of blood flow.

The best he could do was try to survive. He thought of his two best friends, and knowing they were safe, and remembering the reason he had done this in the first place, closed his eyes, a tear trembling on his eyelashes.

-

The creaky dungeon door opened, and Harry gently lifted his head from the grimy stone floor. He heard a voice barely above a whisper mutter, "_Stupefy!_" and the Death Eater standing guard fell to the ground with a dull thud. A second Death Eater entered Harry's dungeon. He recognized that prowling walk; there was no mistaking it.

"Snape?" he asked wearily.

His old Potions professor lowered his hood to reveal his pasty, white skin and greasy hair. "I don't have long," was all that he replied. "Open your mouth." Harry complied. Snape peered into Harry's mouth, examining his gums.

The Potions Master dug in his robes for something and produced a small vile.

"You're dehydrated, Potter. Drink this." He thrust the vile into Harry's hands. Without a moment of hesitation, Harry brought the liquid to his parched lips, swallowing it hurriedly. He felt slightly better.

"Thank you," he said creakily as he handed the vile back to the professor.

Snape didn't respond, and instead started healing the cuts up and down Harry's arms.

"I have a few broken ribs," Harry said.

"There's nothing I can do about that now. I don't have that kind of healing ability." He stopped and looked at Harry. "Dumbledore knows you're alive, I alerted him a few nights ago when the Dark Lord brought you before the school."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to this.

"I have to leave. I have a cover to maintain." Again, he dug into his robes. He pulled out some meat and fresh bread. "Make this last as long as you can. I don't know when I'll be able to come back here again."

Without another word, he left the food in Harry's lap and swept from the hall, closing the door. Harry heard two distant spells being muttered ("_Enervate!_" and "_Obliviate!_") and then silence. He tucked the food away in one of his pockets, and allowed his body and brain to rest. He didn't bother to consider what had just happened and why Snape had suddenly decided to care about Harry's well-being. The man had hated Harry from the first moment their eyes had met! 

Knowing that Dumbledore had probably told Ron and Hermione that he was still alive, Harry tried to keep his mind on happy thoughts. He thought about when he would see his friends again. He tried to imagine Hermione's smile, Ron's laugh, but already those images were fading from his mind only to be replaced by merciless red eyes and a high, cold laugh.

He pulled out a small piece of the bread in his pocket and put it on his tongue, allowing it to dissolve slowly in his mouth, savoring the taste.

How long could he survive like this?

-

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A/N: I'm keeping the chapters rather short so I can update frequently. If you would prefer me to write longer chapters that will only appear maybe once a week, let me know. Thanks again for the reviews.


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Disclaimer In chapter 1

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A/N Wow, I _never_ expected that type of response from my last chapter; I've never gotten so many reviews for only 2 chapters of a story (even though 3 of the reviews were from the same person [what happened with you, Stargrl123?])! I got so excited that I had to work on this chapter a bit, to live up to your expectations. I hope it works.

Enjoy

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Cold

Albus Dumbledore stood in front of the window, watching the flurries of snow pass by the glass. He was lost in thought as he awaited a message from his only Death Eater spy. Severus Snape had told the ex-headmaster that he would try to reach Harry and heal his wounds. The Potions Master had known the risk of trying to reach the imprisoned boy, Dumbledore had half a mind to tell him not to do it, because if Snape was caught, Dumbledore's only messenger of what Voldemort was up to would be gone, and there would be no stopping the Dark Lord from gaining power.

"Headmaster?"

Dumbledore turned to see the bespectacled face of his ex-deputy headmistress. "I haven't been Headmaster for sometime now, Minerva," he sighed.

"Any word from Severus?" McGonagall asked ignoring Dumbledore's last statement. In her mind he would always be the true headmaster of Hogwarts, no matter who was instructing it's students now.

The weary man shook his head solemnly and turned back to the window.

McGonagall saw that Dumbledore didn't want to talk, but she wouldn't let him leave her questions unanswered. "Do you think Severus reached Potter?"

Dumbledore remained unmoving by the window. "We shall know soon enough."

McGonagall nodded even though she knew that Dumbledore couldn't see her. The man's voice sounded so heavy; weighed down with grief, and sorrow, and guilt. The spark in those clear blue eyes had gone out long ago, and the headmaster seemed to find sanctuary in his own mind nowadays, getting lost in thought often. She turned and left the small room, and disappeared into the dark hallways of the house they had hidden away in, many miles from where Hermione and Ron's camp was.

Left standing by the window, Dumbledore's thoughts traveled many miles to the dungeons of Hogwarts. Severus had said that they'd been keeping Harry in the dungeon just beyond the Potions classroom. Dumbledore had only entered the room Snape spoke of once in his stay at Hogwarts, and even then he had thought it looked ominous. Something that had looked suspiciously like blood had stained the walls and floor, and just the feeling the room gave off sent a shiver down his spine.

He tried to keep his thoughts optimistic whenever they turned to Harry. Personally, Dumbledore had considered himself something like a grandfather figure to Harry, and it had pained him to see the boy he had grown to love sacrifice himself to save the school. But whenever his thoughts landed on a starving Harry dying in the darkness of a dungeon, he found his throat constricted and promptly changed his train of thought.

Dumbledore tore his mind away from thoughts of Harry and focused his eyes on the white sheet that seemed to be covering his window. He saw nothing for a brief moment, and then an owl appeared, an owl seemingly oblivious to the snow around it and undaunted by the lashing wind thanks to the spells Dumbledore had put on it. He opened his window quickly and allowed the graceful eagle owl to swoop in and land gently on his desk. The bird immediately held out it's leg, and Dumbledore untied the letter attached to it, opening it hurriedly. It was short, and seemed to have been written in a hurry.

_Professor Dumbledore_

My attempt to reach Potter was successful. I gave him a hydrating potion and some food, however I couldn't stay long to give him other potions he sorely needs. He seemed to be in an awful condition, but managed to speak to me, uttering three phrases. I healed as much of his wounds as I could, he told me they had broken his ribs, but my expertise doesn't cover that level of healing.

He is fading slowly. Though he won't allow anyone to see it, he is dying. I will do what I can to delay any further damage. I'll visit him again on Christmas with more potions to offer.

Severus Snape

Dumbledore lowered the letter and brought his hand to his face, sighing deeply. One sentence was emblazoned in his mind. "_Though he won't allow anyone to see it, he is dying_." Harry was never one to draw attention to himself. Even now, when he was dying, he didn't show any weakness. _A true Gryffindor at heart_, Dumbledore thought sadly.

Sighing again, Dumbledore pulled out a strip of parchment to write a letter to Ron and Hermione's group. They had a right to know what was happening. Dipping the quill gingerly in the inkpot, he let it hover above the parchment, considering how he would write this. He lowered it, and the scratching reverberated around the empty room.

-

Severus Snape's robe whipped around the corner as he hurried to the headmaster's office. He ignored the vicious stares he got from the students as he passed them by, ignored the hisses of "_traitor!_" that followed him round. He had lost all of his authority when Dumbledore had left, and was no longer allowed to punish the students, a job left for the Dark Lord. The students didn't fear him anymore, and didn't bother to lower their voices as they called him "slimy git" in the corridors. This didn't daunt him, however, for in the back of his mind he _knew_ that one day soon they would all be in Azkaban. One day Dumbledore would strike back and, with Severus' help, would regain control of Hogwarts. That was all that kept him sane in this school of hell. That was what kept him from running away after the frequent instances that the Dark Lord would use the Cruciatus Curse on him. . . for no apparent reason.

He turned the corner and found the door that led to the Dark Lord's chambers. The Dark Lord had been unable to penetrate Dumbledore's office, much to his despair, but it kept Snape smiling late at night when the coldness of the castle seemed to run beneath his skin. He knocked briefly on the thick wooden door.

"Come in, Snape," the cold voice said. It always made him nervous when the Dark Lord knew he was there before seeing him. Taking a moment to regain his composure, he swept into the room, immediately bowing his head as was expected of him.

"My lord," he muttered, keeping his voice smooth. He might despise the Dark Lord, but he couldn't risk acting any differently than the other Death Eaters. Dumbledore was depending on him, the whole Wizarding world was depending on him. . . Potter was depending on him.

"What do you want?" the Dark Lord questioned. Snape smiled inwardly. He knew that with any other Death Eater in the school, the Dark Lord would already know the purpose for the visit, but thanks to the Occlumency skills Snape had learned from Dumbledore, his thoughts were private.

"I have a request, my lord," Snape said silkily, keeping his eyes averted from the man sitting just in front of him. He longed to glare the Dark Lord in the face, to prove that he wasn't just another trembling Death Eater, to show that he wasn't afraid, but he remembered Dumbledore, and stared at the floor.

"Continue."

"As you know, I have taught at this school for many years, and a portion of those years included the Potter boy. My hatred for the filthy mudblood is only rivaled by my hatred for the filthy mudblood-lover," Snape said. It pained him to refer to Dumbledore like that, but he needed the Dark Lord's trust.

"Hurry up, Snape, my time is precious." Snape shivered with the way he said 'precious.' He exaggerated the 's' so that it sounded like the hissing of a snake.

"Yes, my lord. I was hoping that I would get my own time with the boy. I have not gotten the chance to express my hatred for Potter, and I so dearly want to."

There was a pause, and then, "You know very well, Snape, that you do not have to come to me for permission to beat Potter."

"Yes, my lord, I know that," Snape said hurriedly. "But I was hoping for permission to spend my time with Potter. . . _privately_."

Snape felt Voldemort trying to probe into his mind, to read his thoughts, but easily stopped him.

"Very well."

Snape heard the finality in the Dark Lord's voice, and immediately uttered, "Thank you, my lord, you are most gracious." He backed out of the room, not daring to show the Dark Lord his back, and hurried back to his quarters where he would have to start making the potions that Potter would need. 

Once he had locked the door behind him, he pulled down his hood and mask and breathed deeply. It was stifling hot being covered constantly, and every chance he got he allowed his face to get some air. 

He got the ingredients from his private storeroom to make several different Healing Potions, Strength Potions, and perhaps a Sleeping Draft so that Potter could sleep better. His own consideration disgusted the Potions master, and he busied himself over the several cauldrons he was using.

When the sun set, he had no choice but to clean up everything so that he could go to dinner. He pulled his hood and mask back on, and after making sure there was no evidence of what he had been doing, swept from the room. He wasn't hungry, but to miss dinner would mean several hours of enduring the Cruciatus Curse at the hand of the Dark Lord in front of the entire school. His mind still on what he needed to do for Potter, he emerged into the Great Hall and took his seat at the head table, next to the headmaster's throne where he had sat when Dumbledore had been at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord wasn't there yet, and so the hall waited in silence for him to arrive. No one dared to speak, and no one dared to start eating. If they had to wait so long that their food got cold, so be it. A cold chicken leg was better than being punished with an Unforgivable. Snape kept his hands folded on the table in front of him, and sat deathly still, his eyes moving beneath his mask, sweeping over the students.

He saw Draco Malfoy sitting at what had been the Slytherin table. He still sat there even though each table was the same now. There were no longer 'Houses' like there had been in the time of Hogwarts, there was just one large nameless house that everyone was a part of. There were, however, social classes within the student body itself. The rank of your Death Eater parent or parents decided who you were friends with. It disgusted Snape when he saw old best friends split apart just because the Dark Lord considered them to be of different importance in his eyes. Dumbledore had been correct when he had said that the Dark Lord had a great gift for spreading discord and enmity.

The school was just as full as it had been in Hogwart's time as well, many students from other countries had appeared a few weeks after Dumbledore had fled, wishing to study the Dark Arts. Indeed, many students from Durmstrang transferred to Hogwarts after hearing about the Dark Lord's invasion.

Watching Draco Malfoy now, Snape longed to hear what the boy was thinking, but didn't dare try to read his mind in front of everyone. Malfoy had been the first to join the Dark Lord that night, but a week ago, when Potter was brought in front of the school, he had definitely seen fear in the 16 year old's eyes. He had even seen, if only a fleeting trace, mercy.

The rustling of robes announced the arrival of the Dark Lord. A murmuring of "my lord," echoed through the hall, but instead of walking behind the head table to take his seat, the Dark Lord walked in front of it. In his pale, white fingers was clutched a piece of parchment. He turned to the students, all of whom were averting their eyes.

"We have a traitor in our midst." The icy voice managed to chill Snape the way no wind could. At this statement, he tensed, his eyes wide beneath his mask, but no one seemed to notice thanks to the billowing robes he constantly wore. The hall was silent as they waited for the Dark Lord to continue.

"One of my faithful students reported to me just now that they found this in the dormitory of one of their classmates—" he held up the strip of parchment, "—and I thought that maybe I could share it with the rest of you."

He opened up the paper, and read, everyone holding their breath

.

"_Dear Professor Dumbledore_—_ I want out. I can't live like this any more. You-Know-Who made me torture Potter, but I can't do it. I want to join you. Owl me at soon as you can._

"_Sincerely_—"

Here the Dark Lord looked up and into the eyes of Malfoy.

"_Draco Malfoy_."

Snape felt cold. His throat was oddly constricted as he watched the back of the Dark Lord's head.

"Come here, Draco," the Dark Lord said silkily.

The blonde boy stood up slowly from his table and walked cautiously to the front of the room, his terrified eyes on the headmaster. He stopped a mere five feet from the Dark Lord.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The pale, pointed-face of the boy slacked, and he fell to a heap on the ground. Snape watched in horror as the Dark Lord slowly pocketed his wand.

There was a stunned silence in the hall.

Snape realized he was trembling.

"The next person I find has tried to join Dumbledore might not be so lucky as Mr. Malfoy here. I ended it quickly for him because he was a model student." The Dark Lord strode around the head table and sat in the throne. "Eat," he said simply.

Snape scrambled to pick up his fork, but couldn't eat. He merely moved his food around his plate until dinner ended and he could return to his dungeons. He passed by Malfoy's lifeless body as he left, but looked the other way. He needed to hurry.

-

Christmas day came, and Snape joined in all the festivities he was expected to attend. Indeed, they were not nearly as cheerful as the Christmas' with Dumbledore, but he survived to the evening when his first meeting with Potter was scheduled. He hid the different bottles in his billowing cloak, and headed to Potter's dungeon. The Death Eater guard was still there, still without a memory, but he doubted anyone had noticed. The git had been an idiot before Snape had modified his memory.

He opened the heavy oak door, and the musty smell of the chamber met his nostrils. He stood for a moment in the doorway, squinting into the darkness. He could make out a figure on the opposite wall, slumped down on it's side asleep.

As he entered the room, a weak voice asked, "You're back?"

"Yes." Snape closed the door swiftly and lit his wand. He saw the boy cringe from the light.

"How long can you stay?" Harry asked wearily, sitting up slightly on the wall.

"I'm not sure. I requested private sessions with you from the Dark Lord. I have perhaps an hour." Snape knew that he didn't need to elaborate. The boy wasn't an idiot, he would know that by saying 'sessions' he had meant 'beatings.' Deciding not to waste any time, he sat down in front of Potter, pulling out the various bottles and lining them up in front of him.

"I never was good at Potions," Harry said with the trace of a smile, his eyes on the glass bottles.

Snape chose not to respond, and instead pulled the tiny stopper out of the first bottle. "This will help with the ribs," he said, handing Potter the first bottle.

"You're sure it's not poison?"

"Was the first one poison?"

Harry smiled. Snape was amazed the boy could still manage it. If it had been him, he would have bitten the head off of the first person he saw, enemy or ally. Harry lifted the bottle up, shaking the contents gently. With a look at Snape, he said, "Bottoms up," and swallowed it in one gulp.

Snape handed him the next potions, several were to heal bruises and bones, a clear liquid was to strengthen his muscles, and the final two were Sleeping Drafts. Snape was amazed that Potter swallowed each of them, except the Sleeping Drafts, without question. When the bottles were drained, Potters emerald eyes met Snape's black ones.

"How's everyone," Harry asked, leaning his head back against the wall.

"Fine," Snape answered, "they're all in hiding."

Harry nodded slightly, and then closed his eyes. Snape thought that the small movement had caused him pain, but the next moment Harry opened his eyes, and Snape clearly saw the suffering in them.

"Who did Voldemort kill?" he asked, his eyes locked on Snape's face.

Snape marveled at this, and asked, aghast, "How did you know?"

Harry raised a blood covered hand and pointed to his forehead. "Scar," he said simply.

Snape looked away. "Draco." The image of the boy falling to the ground was still imprinted in his memory.

From the silence Snape could tell that this hadn't been what Potter had suspected.

"Why?" he asked finally, his voice trembling. "Why Malfoy?"

Snape answered quietly. "Malfoy had a letter to Dumbledore lying around in his dormitory. One of his classmates turned him in."

Harry took a moment to absorb what Snape was telling him. "So. . . Draco was on _our_ side?"

Snape nodded briefly.

"Did he. . . do it in front of the. . . the whole school?" Harry asked.

Again, Snape nodded.

Harry looked away. With the boys face turned, Snape could see dried blood covering his cheek in the faint wandlight. The entire boy looked a mess. His hair was matted to his head in several places. His shirt was partially ripped, his jeans torn and bloody. He wore no shoes on his feet, and his toes seemed to be curled in a permanent cringe.

"Dumbledore will get you out of here," Snape said after a moment of silence. He didn't quite know why he was comforting Potter, he had loathed the boy since their first encounter. But no human being deserved what this boy was getting. No living being, human or not, deserved this.

Harry's eyes grew wide. "Tell him no," he said sternly. "I'm not worth that."

"Harry, _you're_ the one who has to defeat the Dark Lord! If you die in here, what will the rest of us do? Wait until he dies of old age?"

Both Harry and Snape sat in shocked silence. Harry was shocked for two reasons: One, he had used Harry's first name, and two Snape knew of the prophecy. Snape was shocked because he had never thought he'd be in the position to give Potter a morality boost.

"How do you know about the prophecy?" Harry asked after a moment.

"You forget I was a Death Eater, Potter," Snape said, resuming his icy demeanor.

Harry's eyes were still locked on Snape's. It was chilling how the boy could give the same searching look as the Dark Lord. It was a pity the boy was no good at reading minds, he could be very powerful if he were.

Snape rose from the ground. "I'll come again in a few day's time," he said. And then, "Take care of yourself, Potter."

Harry watched the man glide from the room and close the dungeon door. 

Outside, Snape leaned against the wall to catch several gasps of air. That dungeon had turned his limbs mysteriously into Jell-O. He glanced briefly at the memory-less Death Eater who was now humming beneath his breath and playing an imaginary drum set.

_Save us_, he thought, walking along the dark corridor. _Somebody save us all_.

-

****

A/N That chapter was slightly longer than the rest. Sorry about Draco, by the way, had to do it. Draco was one of my favorite characters too. . . oh well. Life goes on.

To answer a question brought up by one of my beloved reviewers, this whole thing is taking place nearly 4 months after Lord Moldyshorts. . . er. . . _Voldemort_ moved in, as you can probably gather from this chapter. Sorry about that.

Next chapter won't be up for a bit.


	4. 4

****

Disclaimer In chapter 1

A/N I'm sorry this took so long. I lost my muse. If anyone's seen it, please send it back to me via e-mail. Thanks a bunch.

-

**__**

Alone

Harry woke up from a peaceful nights sleep the following morning. He had used the Sleeping Draft, and his sleep had been dreamless; a nice change. He felt better than he had felt in months, though he wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing. What if the Death Eaters noticed that he was getting better? He doubted that though. They never really seemed to notice his condition.

He stretched, and then put his hands against his chest. His ribs were definitely bruised, but he wasn't sure if they were still broken. He wished his hands weren't tied, he needed to stretch his shoulders, but the best he could do was stretching them up. He groaned and leaned back against the stone wall. He could hear deep voices carrying through the door, and figured that a couple of Death Eaters were having a conversation.

He decided to concentrate on something he had been working on when he had first been locked up. Wandless magic. Since they had taken his wand away from him (and presumably locked it away in Voldemort's office) he had basically no way to defend himself. He knew he could do wandless magic if he wanted, he had done it on several occasions during his summers at Privet Drive. So he had started to try moving things around; bits of food, small rocks he found on the ground, but nothing happened. He figured it was similar to his Parseltongue abilities, he could only speak it when he was confronted with a snake, or, in the case of wandless magic, when he was facing danger.

He decided to try it now, while he was not nursing wounds. The Death Eaters were bound to show up soon, so he immediately dug in his pocket for the chicken bone he had gotten when Snape had brought him food. He set it carefully on the dark stone in front of him where he could barely see it. There was a slight stream of light pouring in through the crack at the bottom of the door that seemed to silhouette the pasty white object ominously.

Harry breathed, and then whispered, "_Wingardium Leviosa_," concentrating on the bone. 

Nothing happened.

Harry tried again, this time saying the words more forcefully and concentrating harder on the bone. 

Again, nothing happened.

Getting frustrated, he tried a third time. When nothing happened again, he scooped up the bone and chucked it into a dark corner, cursing under his breath. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He shouldn't lose his temper so easily, he needed to focus. He crawled the length of the room and started searching wildly for the bone. He found it, but discovered it had shattered in half upon hitting the wall. He took the largest shard he could find back to his usual spot on the wall. He didn't like staying in the dark corners. They reminded him of his cupboard back at Privet Drive.

Again, he placed it on the ground in front of him. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," he said calmly, imagining the bone lifting from the ground and soaring to the door. The object gave a sort of tired wobble, lifted an inch from the ground, and then fell back again, with a small clank. He felt drained instantly as if he had just run a long distance. Slightly proud of his accomplishment and slightly disappointed that his progress was so trivial, Harry closed his eyes and tried not to think about what would happen when he woke up again.

-

"Master wants to see you," a sickeningly nasal voice said almost mockingly.

"Again?" Harry groaned, opening his eyes. What he saw shocked him.

"Master does not like Harry Potter. Master wishes to kill Harry Potter."

"K-Kreacher?" Harry gasped.

The crouched house-elf went into his usual muttering. "The foul boy recognizes Kreacher. He is not as dumb as Master claims him to be. But he is still foul. He loved his godfather. Yes, but good Kreacher ended that. Mistress was most proud of Kreacher. Reward him, she did. Sent him to new Master. Kreacher likes it much better here. . . ."

Harry found himself trembling with rage. He didn't know how long ago it had been that Sirius had fallen through the veil, but barely three months later Harry had been captured and forced to relive that night in the Department of Mysteries every time he slept. The pain was still fresh.

He wanted to strangle that disgusting, foul, traitorous animal that was standing before him. He wanted to watch that creature suffer, to realize what Sirius' death had done to him. But he settled for whispering out a threat.

"When I get out of here, you'll be the second in line after I kill Voldemort," he hissed menacingly.

Kreacher laughed evilly. "The boy thinks he will escape. He doesn't know what Master has planned for him. No, he has no idea. . . ."

"What are you talking about?" Harry said viciously.

Kreacher laughed again. "Master wishes to see you." Two forms appeared in the doorway and strode in past Kreacher. They each seized one of Harry's arms and dragged him from the dungeon. Harry didn't bother to tell them that he could walk.

It was dark outside when they emerged into the Entrance Hall. He was dragged into the Great Hall, and was thrown to the floor in front of the head table. Once again, the room was packed with students, all of them with their attention on Harry. Some of them had a hungry look in their eyes as they looked at the boy. Harry was sure all of them were wishing Voldemort would choose them to torture him this time. Voldemort strode around the table so he could stand closer to Harry.

"Enjoy your Christmas, Potter?" he asked sneering.

Harry looked around. "Today's Christmas?" he asked.

"Yesterday was," Voldemort corrected him. "I'm so sorry I didn't send you a present. I thought maybe it would be better for you to receive it in person." The whole crowd erupted in laughter. Harry got to his feet.

"Then give it to me," he said. His voice was strong, his eyes focused. He no longer feared this man, if he could be called a man. Harry didn't fear death. Instead, death would be welcome. He didn't fear anything anymore, something he had come to realize during long hours down in his dungeon. Voldemort seemed to realize he no longer posed as a threat to Harry.

"It seems that I no longer have a use for you," Voldemort said, peering at Harry with those emotionless red eyes.

"So you'll just dispose of me then?" Harry asked. "You just get rid of everything that poses as an obstacle to you? Excuse me, _Tom Riddle_," Harry said viciously, "but to me that sounds like a coward."

"Enough!" Voldemort shouted. Harry smiled. He had reached a soft spot.

"Funny, though," Harry went on, "how you consider Muggle-borns to be cowards when you are one yourself."

The silence in the hall was deafening. Voldemort looked at Harry, breathing heavily. Harry's temper was getting up. If he got angry enough, he might be able to perform some magic. . . .

As soon as he thought this the ropes binding Harry's hands fell to the ground, cut. He looked down at his free hands, and looked up at Voldemort to see his shocked face.

"You have served your purpose," Voldemort said, regaining his composure. The long black wand emerged from his robes. He swished it high above his head.

"Merry Christmas. _Avada Kedavra!_" he cried.

Harry didn't know why he did it, but almost automatically he raised his hand to the green beam of light heading his way. "No!" he shouted. 

And miraculously, the spell stopped in midair. It was causing Harry every ounce of strength to keep the spell stationary. Fogginess was already creeping into his vision, his legs were starting to give way, but still he kept his hand raised. 

The green light of the curse dulled as the power drained out of it. It was now merely beam of white light hanging in midair.

Harry was dimly aware of everyone staring at the scene in shock, and as though from a distance he heard Voldemort screech, "Kill him!"

Harry fell to the ground on his knees. And then, his mind went blank. 

-

Blinking twice he looked around. He was in a completely white room, windowless and door-less. It reminded him of the type of insane asylum they showed in Muggle movies. 

The wall to his right slid open and a familiar tall man strode through it.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled. The man didn't respond. He simply kept walking and disappeared through the opposite wall. Harry followed.

They went through another white room, identical to the one Harry had just been in, and then they emerged into a large stone room, similar to a dungeon but well lit so it didn't hold a threatening presence. In the center of the room was a type of pool. Sirius walked to the water where four other people were crouched. Harry recognized them all from behind. Sirius took his seat next to a man with wild black hair and black framed glasses. On the man's left was a woman with red hair, and next to her was a tall boy with dark brown hair. Next to him was a skinny, blonde boy with sharp gray eyes.

"How's he doing?" Sirius asked. His voice echoed in the room. Harry couldn't decide if Sirius himself was an echo, like what had happened in the graveyard a year ago, or if the room merely echoed.

"He's losing his strength," James Potter answered. Harry decided that it was just the size of the room that created the echo. Those people were quite real.

"He could die at any moment," Cedric Diggory added.

"He could already be here with us," Lily Potter said, casting her eye around the room. She looked right through Harry.

"Won't we see him?" Draco Malfoy asked, also glancing around.

"No. He is still alive, though creeping into unconsciousness," James responded.

"So his mind is here and there also?" Draco asked, obviously confused. He wasn't the only one. Harry had no clue what was going on

"No," Sirius said, "his mind is there fully, but he is dreaming now. Similar to a day dream."

"Potter always day dreamed in Potions," Draco said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"We all did," James said.

Harry walked over to the group and sat next to his godfather. He looked into the pool. He gasped.

There, in the pool below him, he was watching himself struggling with the deadly spell Voldemort had cast at him. Several more were cast at him from surrounding Death Eaters, and Harry stopped each of them in turn.

"He can't hold much longer, can he?" Cedric Diggory asked.

"He could die from the effort," Lily said.

"I wouldn't mind seeing him again," James said guiltily.

"None of us would," Sirius agreed.

"You can't forget the prophecy so soon!" Lily shrieked. "You're both so greedy!"

James shrugged, his face still expressionless. "We weren't serious, Lily."

"Yeah, hold your hippogriffs," Sirius said.

"So if Potter is here, he can hear us, right?" Draco asked, clearly still not understanding the concept.

James nodded.

"So why don't we talk to him?"

"Go ahead if you wish to have a one-sided conversation, Malfoy," Cedric said, not taking his eyes off the water.

"How much could you possibly have to say to Harry anyway?" Sirius asked. "I thought you hated him."

Draco didn't respond. Instead, he let out an audible gasp. Harry turned his attention back to the water. He had just collapsed to the floor. Had a spell gotten through?

His questions were answered as he felt himself being pulled away from the room. He longed to stay, even if he couldn't talk to the people there. He wanted to find out more, to hear more of Malfoy's questions. He didn't even know if that place was real, but he knew for a fact that it was better than Hogwarts. 

But he found himself once again trapped inside his own head. All he saw was darkness.

Okay, so he wasn't dead, yet he couldn't open his eyes. He wasn't unconscious because he was still thinking, and to think you had to be conscious, right? Someone touched his shoulder and rolled him over. He realized the reason why he couldn't see anything, he had been face-down on the floor of the Great Hall. The reason why he couldn't open his eyes was because they were already open. He couldn't shut them either.

"Is he dead?" a distant cold voice asked.

Someone touched his neck. He couldn't move his eyes to see who it was. "No pulse."

He recognized that voice! But from where? Everything seemed like a dream to him. His memories were all swirled together.

"Shall I dispose of him, my lord?" the same voice asked.

The image of a bat with greasy black hair appeared in his mind's eyes, and he struggled to say, "Snape!" He didn't even manage to move his lips. 

"Yes," the high voice said.

Snape picked Harry up with an arm under his legs and another under his back. He was carried from the hall and out through the front doors into the chilling winter air. Snape carried him out to the Forbidden Forest and a ways into it. Harry wanted to shout, to make Snape realize he wasn't dead, but again couldn't move at all.

Snape set Harry down in the snow which succeeded in chilling Harry to the bone.

"You're not dead, Potter," Snape said.

Harry didn't respond. Obviously.

"You've had all your energy drained from your body. It was to be expected from the level of magic you just performed."

Snape pulled out his wand. He cast a heating spell on Harry.

"I need to alert Dumbledore to come pick you up. The Dark Lord need never know you've survived. But if I leave you like this a werewolf is bound to find you and then we're doomed."

Snape pulled a small bottle out of his pocket.

"I have some Strength Potion, but that is not nearly enough to keep you alive, so I will be transferring some of my own energy to you."

Harry wanted to protest, but he couldn't. He merely lay there, looking absently up at the treetops.

A bottle was placed at his lips, and the contents were emptied into his mouth. It simply streamed down his throat, Harry not able to swallow.

Snape muttered a serious of spells Harry couldn't hear, and then a ball of light appeared hovering above him. It lowered into his chest, and Harry suddenly found himself able to move again. He sat up, sputtering with some of the potion still caught in his throat, and gasping for air. Snape was looking slightly weary, slumped down in the snow beside him.

"You didn't need to do that," Harry said, turning to him.

"So you would have preferred that I had left you here to die?" Snape asked skeptically.

Harry shrugged.

"Before I forget," Snape said, digging into his pocket for something. He produced a wand. He handed it to Harry.

When Harry's fingers wrapped around it, scarlet and gold sparks shot out of the end. It was his wand. _His_ _wand_. Harry looked at it.

"I thought I wouldn't see it again," he admitted to Snape.

"I took the liberty of nicking it from the Dark Lord's office when he wasn't paying attention. Don't lose it again, Potter."

Harry nodded, and rose to his feet. Snape stood also. For a moment, they just looked at each other.

"Let me just say, Potter, that when this is all over, I'll still treat you like the scum that you are."

Harry smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way." And then, Snape smiled. A genuine smile. The Potions Master extended his hand, and Harry shook it briefly. "Thank you."

Snape nodded. "I'll owl Dumbledore at once. Where should I say you'll be?"

Harry thought for a moment. "The Shrieking Shack. I'm assuming that Death Eaters are swarming Hogsmeade—" Snape nodded "—and they can't have been able to get into the Shack. That's safest, I think."

Snape looked at him. "Keep your head down, Potter. I don't know if they've discovered the passageway to the Shack or not. Don't risk leaving the Shack for any reason. I'm not about to see that this has all been in vain."

Harry grinned. "It hasn't been. And it won't be. I'll keep my head down if you do the same. We're depending on you for inside information now."

A trace of a smile flitted across Snape's features. "Agreed." He turned on his heel and walked back towards the school leaving Harry feeling as alone as ever.

-

****

A/N To tell you the truth, I didn't have this chapter planned out this way at all. I was actually planning to have Harry unconscious for a few days, and Snape trying to heal him, and Dumbledore and Ron and Hermione all worried. . . .

But this way was much quicker, and in my opinion, much more emotional. Even though this means I'll have to re-plan my entire story, it's fine. I'm up for the challenge. This was a confusing chapter (I didn't understand parts of it), so I'll be shocked if no one asks me to explain something. Unless my writing's really that good and I actually have the ability to translate my thoughts onto paper. . . which I doubt horrendously.

I don't know when the next chapter will be up. Reviews are welcome, once again.

****

Lost:

One muse. Goes by the name of Brilliance. Only a baby. Has green eyes.

If found, please return in a review. Thank you.

Felony Melanie


	5. 5

****

DisclaimerIn chapter 1

****

A/N- Slightly happier chapter. Not as dark. Point of view changes a bit, sorry if it gets confusing.

-

**__**

Home

Harry struggled through the snow, creating a wide path, and made it out of the forest. He was still in an unbelievable amount of pain, but he wasn't dead, and for once in his several month imprisonment, he was glad he was still among the living. The icy snow burned at his sides as he pushed his way through it. He felt sore all over, and wouldn't be surprised if his head exploded from the throbbing headache he got from the cold; Snape's heating spell had worn off, and Harry was wearing nothing but torn, ragged robes. 

He made it to the Whomping Willow that immediately started thrashing it's limbs threateningly once Harry was in reach. He stayed out of the way, and raised a long branch he had gotten from the forest to press the knot of the tree. It froze, allowing Harry to scramble to it's roots and through the hole to the passageway that would lead him to the Shrieking Shack.

Not forgetting Snape's warning, he kept his wand in his hand, lighting it when darkness overcame him. He kept his eyes peeled at every turn, squinting in the wavering wandlight for some sign of movement in the passageway ahead, but nothing came. His back began to ache from staying crouched constantly, and he could feel his strength starting to wane slowly. He had to stop and rest at a few points, sucking in the stuffy air in the tunnel.

After what seemed like an eternity, he made it to the end of the tunnel and out into the darkness of the Shrieking Shack. He pulled himself out through the hole and collapsed on the dust-covered floor, his legs still in the tunnel, catching his breath. He mopped his hair out of his eyes and breathed deeply. Small wisps of air were leaking through the cracks in the walls, chilling the house and allowing several snow flakes onto the floor. Harry didn't feel like moving too much; he was fine with just staying there. He was completely exhausted, and just stared at the ceiling. He noticed the many cobwebs on the Shack's ceiling, linking together the thick wooden beams.

His wand still clutched in his hand, he drifted into a light sleep, focused on one thing. _He was free_.

-

Harry didn't know how long he slept for, but he knew he awoke from a distant sounding _pop!_ Opening his tired eyes he saw a familiar white beard and half-moon spectacles. Immediately a feeling of warmth and comfort spilled over Harry. Dumbledore extended his hand towards him, which he took gratefully. The headmaster raised the boy to his feet, his eyes scanning over the ragged form.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry croaked, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

"Harry."

Harry watched the emotions flit across the old man's face. The full impact of what he had just been through slammed into Harry like a freight train. He found himself in a tight embrace with Dumbledore, the first he had ever shared with his headmaster, his head pressed into the silk fabric of the man's dark blue robes. 

Harry effectively contained the howl of anguish that was trying to escape his weak form. It had been too much. Harry had acted bravely during his imprisonment, but now that he was free, he no longer needed to mask his emotions. The hug with his headmaster managed to relieve Harry, and give him a new spurt of courage. _He had survived. He would leave now._

They separated, and Harry caught Dumbledore wiping a tear from his eye.

No words were exchanged as Dumbledore reached into his pocket and withdrew a candy wrapper. Harry took it in his hand, and felt the familiar tug behind his navel, meaning it was a portkey. Dumbledore disappeared in a swirl of color, and suddenly Harry found himself face down on a dirty wooden floor, catching his breath.

"Harry!" someone nearby shrieked. Harry, who had just stood up, went reeling backwards into a sink as someone slammed themselves into him, hugging him round the midriff.

"Ow! Watch it!" Harry said, prying the figure from him. "Hermione?"

Hermione's round hazel eyes shone with tears. She threw her arms around his neck again, and sobbed into his shoulder. Harry felt himself stiffen unconsciously. For months he had been dreaming of this moment, envisioning it in his mind's eye, and now that it was happening he was in shock.

"Harry?" a tired voice said from the doorway.

"Ron!" Harry shouted as a redhead appeared in the kitchen.

Ron's eyes widened in shock as he took in Harry's appearance. "Bloody hell," Harry heard him whisper. Nonetheless, he strode across the kitchen and held Harry in a rough one-armed hug. "We thought we'd never see you again," he admitted.

Harry nodded. "I didn't think I'd make it out of there alive."

"From what Professor Snape has told me," a voice said from the doorway, Harry turned to see Dumbledore striding in, "you nearly didn't."

Harry held Dumbledore's eye contact for a moment before looking away, finding a spot on the floor to stare at. He didn't feel ready to tell them about the vision he had when he was dying. He couldn't before he understood it himself. He moved away from them.

Harry knew what Dumbledore wanted. He wanted Harry's story. But Harry wasn't ready to give it. He had only just left _that place_. They would have to wait.

"Is there a room where I can rest?" he asked, his voice suddenly drained of emotion.

Hermione immediately sprang into action, leading Harry to a room at the back of the house. It was small, with a single window, but it had a bed and a dresser and that's all that Harry really needed. He thanked Hermione, and assured her that he was okay before falling back onto the bed. 

He stiffened. He hadn't been in a bed for months. He wasn't sure that this was real, and felt as though if he enjoyed it, it would all disappear.

He had longed for a bed all those nights in the dungeon, but now he felt as though he would be much better off without it. He rolled off of it onto the creaky floor, and crawled to the corner where he sat with his back to the wall.

He would just have to take it slowly. One step at a time. 

His head drooped on his shoulder as sleep rolled over him.

-

Hermione had listened to all that Dumbledore had to say after she had shown Harry his room, and now, nearly an hour after the headmaster had left, she still couldn't believe it. The same question kept running cartwheels in her head. _How_ had Harry survived the Killing Curse? He should have died tonight. . . .

After a long while of feeling useless sitting in the kitchen, she got up and announced to Ron that she was going to bring Harry some extra blankets. She collected them from the closet, and silently entered Harry's room. When she saw the bed empty, a fresh wave of panic rushed over her until she spotted the crouched figure in the corner.

"Oh, Harry," she groaned. He had been unable to sleep in the bed. What had those fools done to him? She couldn't even begin to wonder how much they had hurt him, how he had been traumatized so much that he could no longer relax in the soft cushions of a bed.

She opened a blanket and laid it gently around Harry, tucking it in behind him. He groaned, and a pained expression overtook his features as she heard him audibly moan, "Sirius! Get him! Save him! He's only just gone through!"

Hermione stepped back, a fresh wave of rage rushing over her. She looked as the boy turned his head and a tear drop spilled from his closed eye. She turned and left the room.

"How is he?" Ron immediately greeted her when she had closed Harry's door.

"He's sleeping on the ground, in the corner," Hermione responded.

Ron stared at her in shock for a moment, and then turned away, running a hand through his already messy red hair. "Bloody hell, Hermione," he grumbled.

"When I tried to hug him earlier he stiffened," Hermione informed him. "And did you see how he changed the subject when Dumbledore came in?"

"Well can you blame him? He's just gotten out of that bloody hell-hole, and already Dumbledore wants to question him."

"We need to know what happened though!" Hermione said, defending her headmaster.

"Hermione!" Ron nearly shouted. "Those memories aren't going to fade anytime soon! I assure you, in several months Harry will still be thinking about his days there. He won't forget it. We just need to give him time to settle in."

Hermione knew this. Hell, everyone knew this. When Harry was ready to talk, then they'd talk; she wasn't going to force it out of him.

"Hermione? Ron?" a voice said from down the hall.

Hermione turned to see Ginny stumbling along. "Go back to sleep, Ginny," Ron said.

"It's morning though," Ginny pointed out. Hermione looked at the window. She was right, the sun was rising.

"Then go to the kitchen and wait for everyone else to get up. We need a group meeting," Hermione said.

Ginny frowned at her. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Ron said quickly. "We'll explain later."

Ginny frowned at them for a moment longer, and then walked past them muttering something about secrets.

Hermione went back to her own room to catch at least an hour of sleep. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep.

-

Ron was sitting at the kitchen table, dragging his finger around the rim of a steaming cup of coffee. On the opposite side of him Ginny sat munching on her toast, her eyes locked on him.

"Have you slept at all?" she demanded.

"No," Ron admitted.

"You should try to get some sleep," Ginny said, sounding very much like her mother.

"I will," Ron said, watching his drink.

Ginny watched him for a moment longer before picking up an old _Daily_ _Prophet_ from the ground. She flipped it open and skimmed over the articles.

Ron was lost in thought again. When Hermione had said that Harry was sleeping on the ground, Ron found that he couldn't quite grasp the concept. Harry, the brave, valiant Gryffindor, was cowering in a corner. Harry, the brilliant Quidditch Seeker, the Boy Who Lived, Ron's best friend, had lost his courage. With a mixture of pity and rage bubbling up inside of him, he had gone to fix a cup of coffee and sat at the table, where he was now.

Nearly an hour later, Dean and Seamus made an appearance in the kitchen, both groggy-eyed, and sat at the table as well. Neville came out too, and grabbed a piece of toast from Ginny's stack. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown followed and sat down next to Ron, who told them all to stay there, and went to fetch Hermione. She was coming out of her room and looked as though she hadn't slept at all.

"Everyone's awake," Ron announced.

Hermione yawned. "Okay. So should we just lay the ground-rules for how people should act around Harry or what?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess. Dumbledore said no one should talk to Harry about his ordeal until Harry wants to talk."

"Yeah," Hermione said. "All right, let's go."

Ron followed her back to the kitchen where their house-mates were all talking quietly. Ron stood off to the side as Hermione caught their attention.

"Everyone," she said when every eye was on her, "Harry escaped from Hogwarts last night."

An excited murmuring began instantly, a hopeful look in Ginny's eyes as they darted from Hermione to Ron and then back to Hermione.

"He's here, in the house. Asleep at the moment," Hermione continued. "And Professor Dumbledore doesn't want any of us to bother him about what happened. He's pretty sick right now, so we need to heal him first. I don't want anyone to talk about the last few months in his presence. Understand?"

Everyone nodded.

"Good," Hermione said, giving everyone a stern look. "Resume your breakfast."

She turned from the kitchen and Ron followed her.

"Should we check on Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Hermione said. They reached the bedroom door, and Hermione's hand hovered above the doorknob. Ron could tell she was gathering her strength to see Harry again. He gave her an encouraging look, and she turned it slowly, pushing open the door.

"Don't hurt me!" a frightened scream came from inside the room as soon as the door had swung open. Hermione lit her wand as Ron proceeded to light several candles in the room.

"We're not going to hurt you, mate," Ron said. Hermione's beam of light fell on Harry's form still crouched in the corner, the blanket crumpled off to the side. The boy was shielding his eyes from the light with his hand.

"Get away from me," he hissed as Hermione took a step towards him.

"Harry, we're here to help you," Hermione said soothingly, "It's us, Hermione and Ron. You left Hogwarts last night. You're probably just disoriented now. Dumbledore said it could happen. Just calm down, Harry."

Harry, breathing hard, slowly lowered his hands and squinted at Hermione.

"That's right," Hermione said.

"Hermione?" Harry asked quietly.

"It's me Harry," she assured him.

"Ron?"

"I'm here, mate," Ron said.

Harry rubbed his temples. "I—I thought it was a dream," he said. "I thought you were Death Eaters coming to torture me again. I forgot that I had left. . . ."

Hermione and Ron shared a glance. Ron saw Hermione visibly cringe. Neither of them knew quite what to say.

Harry spared them the pain of answering by getting to his feet unsteadily. It gave Ron something to do as he rushed forward to keep his friend from falling.

"I guess I was going on adrenaline yesterday," Harry said. "I feel worse today."

"Just lie on the bed, Harry. We have to heal you," Hermione said.

Ron helped Harry into the bed.

"Snape told Dumbledore that you had a broken rib," Hermione said.

"I did," Harry said, "but I think Snape's potions fixed it."

"Just as well, I think I should cast my own charms just to make sure."

Harry eyed her suspiciously. "Since when have you had a talent for healing?"

"Since I've been cooped up here with nothing to do but read," Hermione said impatiently.

Ron smiled. Hermione _had_ been reading a lot. He hadn't really noticed what she had been reading, but now he guessed it had been books on healing charms.

Harry easily ripped the thin robes open partially, exposing his bruised chest. Hermione gasped. Ron looked at how his ribs were protruding from his chest and how his stomach seemed to have been sucked in. There was a large purple bruise across the skin, and one of the ribs seemed slightly twisted. Scratches coated his body, some still dripping blood. Harry looked down at himself sadly.

"I guess Snape's potions didn't manage to heal everything," he said.

Hermione shared a worried look with Ron before moving over Harry. Ron saw the trust in Harry's eyes as he watched Hermione place her wand tip to his twisted rib. She muttered something inaudible, and a warm glow appeared on the spot. The rib looked like it was moving painfully, but in a moment it was strait. Hermione looked at Harry worried.

"Did it hurt?" she asked.

"No," Harry smiled. Hermione seemed to get strength from that. They hadn't really seen Harry smile since he had gotten there.

Hermione proceeded to heal Harry's bruises; Harry ended up closing his eyes and almost falling asleep. She then left the room as Ron brought in some extra robes for Harry to change into.

"You need to eat," Ron said, helping Harry into the robes. "You look like a skeleton."

Harry made an indistinct sound in his throat as he took his wand from the bed-side table and put it in his pocket. He made for the door, but then stopped and looked back at Ron.

"Who else is here?" Harry asked. "Who else is staying in this house?"

"All of the Gryffindor Sixth years," Ron said, "and Ginny."

Harry turned back to the door. "Is there a way out without passing them? I want some time outside."

"There's no back door," Ron said simply. He watched as Harry spun around and strode past Ron to the window. He wrenched it open letting a gust of wind blow several snowflakes inside the room. "What are you doing?" Ron asked. "I think you have to rest."

"I told you. I want some time outside," Harry responded. He swung his leg over the window sill and looked back to Ron. "Tell Hermione I'm asleep. I don't want company now."

Ron watched as his best friend didn't bother to wait for an answer and slipped outside, falling into the fresh snow just beneath the window. Harry closed the window slightly and then disappeared from Ron's sight.

Ron stood there for a moment. So this was how it would be. Harry was going to isolate himself. . . again. Ron wanted his friend to talk about what had happened, but he had said it himself, he didn't like the idea of people questioning Harry so soon after the ordeal. Not while the pain was still fresh.

He turned from the room and opened the door.

No, not when the wounds were still healing. Later they would talk, but not now.

Ron disappeared from the room, closing the door behind him.

When he was ready, he would talk.

-

****

A/N- Next chapter will be completely Harry's POV. I want it to be that way for the rest of the story, except for one scene that I have planned out in my twisted little mind.

As you might have gathered from this pitiful chapter, my muse still hasn't returned. I'll keep looking though.

A lot of your questions will be answered in later chapters.

Peace


	6. 6

****

Disclaimer In chapter one

****

A/N I'd first like to thank those of you searching for my muse. I have a feeling I'll find it soon.

And now on with the story!

-

**__**

Healing

Harry walked a short distance from the house to a wood not far behind it. The trees were thick and icy from the blizzard, but they created a welcoming atmosphere to him; anything was welcoming after his dungeon. The wind was calm now, the sun was getting higher in the sky, the light was twinkling off of the snow. He felt almost bad to ruin the smooth, untouched surface, but plowed his way through it just the same. He found an icy log to sit on that was out of sight from the house. He sat down and looked at the snow.

He had relived Sirius' death last night. It was just as painful then as it had been last June. It never got easier to see; him falling as though in slow motion back into the veil, his face surprised with a hint of laughter, and then him gone. Harry even relived Lupin holding him back, telling him that there was nothing anybody could do. Sirius was gone for good, and each time he had the nightmare it was like losing him all over again.

And Harry thought back to yesterday. Yes, it had only been one day earlier that Harry had been nearly killed. It had been one day since he had stopped those Killing Curses. It had been one day since he had seen those people around the water in. . . what _was_ that place, anyway? Some sort of afterlife? Or heaven? Harry had never been religious, the Dursleys had never dared to take him to church, so he didn't know much on the topic.

Nearly-Headless Nick had said that they study death in the Department of Mysteries, but how much was there to learn about death? Someone kills you and that's it. . . you're gone. Simple as that. No mystery there.

Harry was torn between believing that what he had seen had just been a dream and believing that that place existed and that when he died, he would be reunited with those people. He didn't know if he could ask someone about it. He was afraid that if he told someone, they might think he was losing his mind.

_I wouldn't blame them_, Harry thought. _I probably lost my mind a long time ago_.

He dragged his forefinger through the snow, creating a line. He thought about the killing curse that had been aimed at him; he shouldn't have survived that. But yet, was it so strange? He had survived the curse as a baby, so why not now? Dumbledore said that there was something in the Department of Mysteries that Harry had to use to defeat Voldemort. . . maybe Voldemort had to use that same thing to defeat Harry?

_The curse_ wouldn't_ work then_, Harry thought. He heard a distant owl hoot, and looked up.

The sky was a shocking blue without a cloud in sight, and there, moving quickly and silently towards Harry, was a familiar snowy owl.

"Hedwig!" Harry cried, standing up as the owl landed on his shoulder.

The owl nipped his ear gently and cooed.

Harry stroked her smooth feathers, sitting down again. Harry had started seeing old friends he hadn't seen for months just yesterday, yet he still couldn't feel complete. Even seeing Hedwig again couldn't fill that empty void that had resided in his chest since June.

No, only Sirius could fill that hole. Only a parent could fix that gap. But Harry didn't have anyone any longer. . . sure, he had his friends, but he needed a parent. . . a role model. Dumbledore was too busy, he never saw Hagrid, he didn't know where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley where, the Dursleys would die before treating him nicely, and he had never been able to talk to Lupin like he had been able to talk to Sirius. It just wasn't the same.

A noise suddenly startled Harry, and Hedwig took flight, soaring off into the trees. Instinctively, Harry drew his wand, listening to footsteps crunching in the snow.

"Who's there?" he shouted.

Hermione emerged from behind a tree. "It's just me."

Harry sighed and tucked his wand away. "Didn't Ron tell you I didn't want company?"

"No," Hermione said, a smile playing on her lips. "He said you were asleep in your room. He's a horrible liar, I'm surprised you haven't figured that out before."

Harry watched her. "Well, I don't want company," he said stiffly.

Hermione nodded, the smile fading from her face. "I know. I just brought you out breakfast." She held out a stack of buttered toast, some fruit, some pastries, and a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Thanks." Harry took the food and set it on his log.

Hermione smiled warmly and turned to the house.

"Wait, Hermione," Harry said.

Hermione turned back to him.

"I think I could actually use some company," Harry said quietly. Hermione smiled.

She sat down next to Harry on the icy log, and helped him eat his way through the food. She answered Harry's questions without hesitation.

"What happened to the Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked. "Is it still there?"

"Yes," Hermione responded. "But it's run by Death Eaters now. They use the Ministry's tools to track what everyone's doing; you know, monitoring the Floo Network, seeing who's setting up portkeys. It's really quite scary. Dumbledore doesn't like us to use Floo Powder anymore, and only uses portkeys for emergencies, so he taught us how to Apparate."

"Apparate?" Harry asked, surprised. "You can Apparate?"

Hermione nodded. "Dumbledore will have someone teach you too."

Harry nodded and picked up a pumpkin pasty. "So what is Dumbledore doing to stop Voldemort?"

Hermione looked at him. "Harry, there's no _stopping_ Voldemort anymore; he's taken over. Now it's just a matter of getting everything _back_."

"But what is Dumbledore doing?"

"His first priority was getting you out of there, but not much could have been done. The weather's been horrible, so we had to wait."

Harry shook his head. "There's no way anyone could have rescued me from there. It was pure luck that got me out."

Hermione didn't respond.

"What about supplies? How did you guys get the robes and everything? I thought you said the Death Eaters had taken over."

"They did, but not immediately after they took Hogwarts. We went to Hogsmeade where everyone stocked up on robes and things like that. Then Dumbledore split the students up by houses, sending them to different villages. He's the only one who knows exactly where everyone is, just in case someone is caught and tortured." Hermione shivered at the thought.

Harry looked around. "Where are we?"

"We're in a small Muggle village just outside of London. The Death Eaters haven't reached here yet."

"Who's house is this though?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Dumbledore just sent us here. We don't know much."

"What about Diagon Alley?"

"It's gone. Except for Gringotts, Gringotts is still there. They tried to loot the vaults, but I guess the goblins refused to let them. They haven't joined anyone's side, the goblins, I mean."

"What do you mean Diagon Alley is 'gone'?"

"I mean that it's not there anymore. The stores were looted and burned. It's just a big ruin. . . except for Gringotts."

"And no one stopped them?"

"Oh no, they tried. Mr. Ollivander put up a great fight apparently. Brought down 12 Death Eaters and charmed his wands so that they couldn't use them. So the wands are still there. Most of them were snapped in half."

"How do you know this?" Harry asked.

"Because of Dumbledore's spy. He keeps us updated on everything."

"Snape," Harry said simply.

Hermione nodded.

Harry stood up and jammed his hands in his pockets. "So I guess he really is on our side?"

"Yes."

Harry nodded. "He shouldn't stay there. He should run. The Death Eaters know he's spying, they just can't prove it."

Hermione gasped and stood up. "How do you know?"

Harry avoided her eyes. "Because one time they came in my dungeon, and when they were hitting me. . . they asked me about Snape. They tried to force me to tell them that I knew Snape was in contact with Dumbledore, but I didn't. I told them I didn't know," Harry said. "That only made them hit me harder," he added bitterly.

"When was this?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Only a bit after I was captured. After that they didn't ask me anymore about Snape when they came into my dungeon." From Hermione's lack of response he sensed that someone had told her not to talk about what had happened. "Hermione," he said, "you can ask me about what happened. It's not as though I'll break if you do."

Hermione glanced at him. "I know. It's just so soon. . . ."

"I know," Harry nodded, "it is soon."

Hermione watched him. Without warning he stood up quickly and started pacing around in front of her.

"I just don't understand it! I should have died from that curse! It doesn't make sense!" he shouted. "There's no way to block that spell, Moody—er—Crouch told us. There was no way that I could have survived that. I mean, I know the curse probably won't work against me, but even the effort it took should have killed me."

"But you didn't die, Harry," Hermione said, standing up also. "You survived."

"I don't know how though. I didn't want to survive. I just wanted it all to end. I prayed that it would end."

"Even if it meant never seeing us again?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice.

Harry nodded. "That place. . . it drove me insane. I couldn't handle it anymore. I was prepared to die."

Hermione had a hard to read expression on her face. "We worried about you every day, Harry."

"Well you shouldn't have! I saved you so that you could move on, not so that you could think about how to save me!"

"But we did think about it! That's what friends do, Harry. We couldn't just leave you there! You're the center of it all! You _have to fulfill the prophecy_."

Harry stared at her. "How. . . how do you _know_?"

"Dumbledore told us," she said.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Dumbledore told you," he said, his eyes glazed as he stared off into space.

"That's right."

"He told you—_Why_?"

"Because he needed us to know how important it was to rescue you!" Hermione screeched as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry didn't know what to say. He had assumed when Dumbledore had told him the prophecy that it had to be a secret, so Harry hadn't told anyone. He hadn't even thought much about it lately, only brief moments of contemplation. "The prophecy," he muttered in an off-hand voice.

"Harry, you have to stop Voldemort. You're the only one who can!"

Harry hated hearing that, even if it was true. He couldn't handle it now. "I thought you didn't even believe in prophecies!" he shouted at Hermione, his temper rising.

"Well, if Dumbledore—" she started.

"Who gives a damn about Dumbledore! Hermione, I _can't_ _kill Voldemort_. It's always been me running from him, I've never scared him off! _He_ is going to kill _me_."

"You can't say that!" Hermione said.

"It's true. If I'm some sort of savior, then how come I spent the last four months in a dungeon? If I'm going to defeat the most powerful dark wizard in a century, then why did I live like an animal for all that time? I _can't_ kill him. I'm not as powerful as him," Harry yelled at her. "That's the way it is. Maybe we'll find a prophecy saying that!"

Tears were sliding down Hermione's cheeks. "Harry, _stop_ it! Just _stop_ it! If only you could stop feeling so sorry for yourself, then you'll see that you're just as powerful as him!"

Harry stared at her. "Just leave me alone, Hermione," he said softly.

"Harry—"

"Just go," Harry said. He turned his back to her, and after a minute of silence, heard her fading footsteps crunching in the snow.

He sat down on the log and put his head in his hands. Hermione's words echoed in his head. . . 'If only you could stop feeling so sorry for yourself. . . .' Harry felt he had a right to feel sorry for himself. He had lost so much, had seen so much, had been through so much. . . .

"I'll do whatever I damn well please!" he shouted, lifting his face from his hands. A bird in a nearby tree took flight. Harry felt a tear running down his face, and wiped it promptly.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He twirled it in his fingers, feeling the power surging through him.

"_Incendio!_" he hissed. A twig near him caught fire, and smoldered for a few seconds before it sank into the snow and the flame went out. He felt the anger ebbing out of him.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" he said, moving a rock around. He practiced all of the simple spells he had known, regaining his confidence in casting them. He hadn't used magic for half a year, not since his train ride home from Hogwarts. He had missed the feeling he got when his wand was in his hand, the tingling sensation that spread from his fingertips and encased his entire body, the feeling of security, of knowing the fact that he could protect himself from anything.

Feeling slightly better, he rose from the log and pocketed his wand. He breathed in the crisp air, and slowly made his way back to the house.

-

"Harry!"

Harry was soon surrounded by a mass of people, all trying to hug him and talk to him first. He didn't say anything as he pushed his way through, making it out to the hallway.

"Excuse me," he muttered, leaving them behind. He wasn't in the mood for a celebration. He walked in silence to his room, closing the door behind him when he reached it.

Someone had put a pitcher of water next to his bed along with some cookies. He ignored them and fell on his bed.

_You have to fulfill the prophecy_.

Harry brought his hands to his hair and balled them into fists. "No. I don't have to. I can't."

_You're just as powerful as him_.

"No I'm not. I'm only sixteen. . . ."

Harry sat bolt upright. Tom Riddle had been sixteen in that diary. Tom Riddle had been sixteen when he had opened the Chamber of Secrets, when he had unleashed the basilisk.

_I'm the same age he was when he started showing his powers_, Harry thought. _Maybe Hermione's right_. . . . _Maybe I'll start showing my powers_.

And sitting there in the room flooded with sunlight, he extended his hand towards the plate of cookies. Before he said anything, a single cookie lifted from the porcelain and flew to his hand; he caught it in midair. He stared at it in amazement for a moment before putting it back on the plate.

_You're just as powerful as him_.

-

"Ron, where's Hermione?"

"In her room, I think."

"Which one's her room?"

"At the end of the hall, on the left."

"Thanks."

Harry strode out of the kitchen where Ron was playing chess with Ginny. He reached Hermione's door and knocked.

"Who is it?" her voice said from inside.

"It's me," Harry replied.

The door swung open revealing Hermione wearing an apprehensive look on her face.

"Hermione, I'm sorry for the way I acted," Harry said. "I'm just kind of. . . confused right now."

Hermione smiled, and relief washed over Harry. "I know. Forget it."

Harry forced a smile. "Thanks." He pulled her into a hug, a bridge of understanding closing the gap between them.

Harry went back to his room, somehow remembering something Hermione had said five years earlier.

"_Harry—you're a great wizard, you know_."

For the first time in many months, Harry felt his heart swell inside of his chest.

A great wizard indeed.

-

****

A/N I start high school in a couple of days, and I don't know how much time I'll have to work on this. I definitely won't update as frequently as I'd like to, but I'll probably get to one or two posts a week. 

Also, you might expect a difference in my writing. I'll be writing for the school newspaper, so I might be creatively drained when I get to my Harry Potter stuff. 

Thanks to all of those wonderful people who reviewed. I'm proud to say this fanfic has gotten more reviews than any of my other stories. I guess my writing might be getting better, eh?

peace

felony melanie


	7. 7

****

Disclaimer In chapter 1

****

A/N I've never written a chapter as quickly as I did this one. I suppose I just wanted to get one more out before school starts. It's longer than most others. . . . I hope it'll keep you satisfied for the time being.

****

-

**__**

Attack

Over the next few weeks, Harry slowly started a routine. He woke up earlier than anyone else in the house most mornings, and usually sat outside, watching the sun rise in the sky. Then someone would bring him out breakfast, which he would eat alone. Sometimes he would take a walk in the forest, and other times he would retreat to his room, both times solitary. In his room he would practice magic, in the forest he would try to think things through. Both experiences left him feeling refreshed.

In the evenings he would have dinner with his house mates, sitting in silence as they discussed current events. He would disappear into his room again for the rest of the night, and wasn't seen again until morning. Only Hermione really understood what he was doing; he was trying to regain control of his life. He had been traumatized, no one could come out of what he had been through sane, but there was no room for error when it came down to battling Voldemort, and he needed to have a clear head when that moment came.

He had attempted wandless magic a couple times more, but had been unable to do anything other than Wingardium Leviosa, which was actually the first spell he had learned at Hogwarts. He figured he would be able to do more wandless magic soon enough, but it didn't seem to be an urgent matter. He still had his wand, after all.

During his walks he would sometimes go to a small clearing he had discovered a week after his arrival. It was like a small meadow, though blanketed with several feet of snow, but he found it to be very peaceful, and he loved the way the sun reflected off of the whiteness. That place gave him a feeling of freedom, and allowed him to do his best thinking. It was surrounded on all sides by icy trees, but created such a feeling of openness that never failed to make Harry gasp when he reached it.

It was peculiar times. Harry often left the house without a cloak on because the sun managed to keep him warm. Other times the wind would blow so harshly that he had to bundle himself up with scarves and mittens. The weather was as unpredictable as Voldemort's next move.

They didn't get much news, only the information Dumbledore gave them. The _Daily Prophet_ had stopped going out long ago, according to Ron, so there was no way of knowing how far Voldemort's arm had reached, if the Death Eaters had invaded other countries. But they knew for a fact that none of the Hogwarts students had been captured yet, which was comforting.

Harry seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement with the household; they told him everything he needed to know, and he told them whatever he deemed necessary of knowing. They didn't speak to him much, which was okay with him. They just let him do his thing, trusting that he would tell them if something important happened.

It had been a month since Harry had left Hogwarts when he decided to take Ron and Hermione on his daily walk. He figured that they could use some fresh air, and he hadn't spent any time with just the two of them for a long while. They walked in silence through the forest.

When they reached the clearing, Harry stopped, his eyes scanning the perfect surface of the snow. It had snowed again last night, Harry had watched the flakes pass by his window, silent.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed. Ron's eyes were also scanning the snow.

"I come here every day," Harry said. "I think better here."

He lead them out into the clearing to the log he usually sat on. He brushed the snow off of it.

"Why'd you bring us here?" Ron asked him, sitting down.

Harry shrugged, sitting between Ron and Hermione. "I guess I was tired of being alone."

Harry felt Hermione's eyes on him, but chose not to make eye-contact. Instead he looked down at his fingers. They were slightly numb from touching the snow, and he rubbed his hands together to warm them up.

"I also wanted to talk to you guys," Harry went on. "About the prophecy."

This time Harry felt both Ron's and Hermione's eyes on him.

"Do you believe it?" Harry asked no one in particular.

Ron shifted slightly in his seat. He sniffed. "I'm not sure, mate," he said. "I guess it's true, I mean, how else could you have survived fifteen years ago? I just don't know though. Maybe I don't want to believe it."

Harry turned to Hermione. "What about you?"

Hermione turned her gaze to the trees. "Well, you both know what I think about Trelawny, but I suppose it could have been a real prediction. She was right about Wormtail and Voldemort, wasn't she? She could be right about this. . . ."

Harry nodded and looked back out to the trees. They sat a few minutes in silence until Ron spoke again.

"What about you, Harry?" he asked. "Do you believe it?"

Harry nodded. "I don't want to, but it seems like I don't have a choice. Dumbledore's probably going to end up doing something so that I can take Voldemort down. It's doing that that's the problem."

"I never knew someone could have such a hard life," Ron said, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

"Cheers," Harry returned.

They sat in silence for a bit longer until Harry looked to the sky. A magnificent eagle owl was soaring towards them. Harry stood up, and the owl swooped to his shoulder. He untied the letter that was attached to his leg, and opened it hastily.

__

Harry—

I hope you are settling in well, and that you have regained the weight and strength you lost in Hogwarts.

I write to you to inform you that your Apparation lessons will begin shortly. Remus Lupin will be instructing you, I'm afraid that I will be unable to teach you myself. There has been word that dementors have been sighted not too far from where some of my students are hiding, and I must attend to that issue immediately.

This owl is safe if you wish to write me back.

I'm sure this will end soon. Do not lose faith.

—Albus Dumbledore

Harry lowered the letter. Ron and Hermione were watching him expectantly.

"Lupin's going to teach me to Apparate," he informed them.

"Why not Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"Dementors were seen near someone's hiding place."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. "Who's?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked back at the letter. "I don't know. . . he didn't say." Harry stroked the owl's back and said to it, "You can go home. I won't be writing back." The owl took flight and disappeared over the trees.

Harry shivered slightly, but not from the cold. He hated dementors immensely. That feeling had only heightened last June when Sirius had died, Harry felt that it was the dementors' fault that Sirius had missed out on 12 years of his life, it was their fault that he had to relive his worst memories every night. Sirius could have been happy, instead of suffering. If it weren't for the dementors, Sirius could have caught Wormtail that night on the Hogwarts grounds. . . .

He thought it was strange that every time he came to this clearing, his thoughts turned to his godfather. Harry felt Hermione and Ron watching him.

Harry turned back to his friends. "I've thought of a name for this place," he said, his throat oddly constricted.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Padfoot's Pasture," he said.

Hermione and Ron looked around, whether it was to avoid eye-contact with Harry or to try out the new name, he didn't know. Ron smiled. "I like it."

"Me too," Hermione agreed.

Harry nodded, smiling slightly. "Padfoot's Pasture," he repeated. It was perfect. It was a memorial to Sirius, and a tribute to the Marauders. In his mind he imagined Sirius' dog form bounding out of the trees and into the snow, rolling around playfully. Perfect.

As they were leaving a few minutes later, Harry stopped before they had entered the forest.

"Hold on," he said, pulling out his wand. He pointed it to a nearby tree. Using a spell he had learned a long time ago, he burned some markings into the bark.

_R.I.P. Padfoot_.

Below it, he burned a paw print, similar to the one Sirius had sent him as a good luck wish in his fourth year.

He smiled at his work. Hermione put an arm on his shoulder, and Ron came up on Harry's other side. For a long time, they couldn't look away.

-

Harry was in the kitchen when Lupin Apparated. Immediately he rose from the table, and hugged his ex-Professor.

"How are you, Harry?" Lupin asked.

"I'm still alive," Harry responded.

Lupin smiled. Harry saw something strained about his professor's emotions, and immediately knew that he hadn't taken Sirius' death too well.

Harry offered Lupin a cup of coffee which he accepted, and they both settled down at the table.

"Where's Hermione and Ron?" Lupin asked.

"They went to buy some things at the store," Harry responded, drinking deeply from his mug.

"And everyone else?"

"They're having a snowball fight outside."

"Ah," Lupin said. He watched Harry. "Are you keeping yourself busy?"

"There's not much to do around here," Harry said. "I go for a lot of walks in the forest. Most of the time I stay in my room and practice magic."

"It must feel good to have your wand back."

Harry nodded. When both of them had emptied their cups, they rose from the table and went to the den where they cleared a large space in the middle, moving the couch and chairs aside.

"Now, Harry, Apparation is similar to using Floo Powder except you don't have to use the fireplace. What you do use is your mind. Apparation is entirely mental, and requires complete and utter concentration," Lupin said.

Harry watched him.

"All that you need to do is imagine the place where you want to go in your mind's eye. Similar to Floo Powder, say the name in your head, and then focus your mind, willing yourself to appear there. Got it?"

"Focus my mind, got it," Harry said.

"We're going to start small, not long distances or anything. What I want you to do is close your eyes and try to move yourself to the couch. Imagine yourself appearing on the couch. Try it."

Harry looked around to the couch which was on the opposite side of the room. He closed his eyes.

_Okay, Harry, focus_.

He imagined himself landing on the couch. He then willed his mind to do it. He opened his eyes. He was in the same spot.

"Try again," Lupin urged. "This time, try to imagine that you're already there."

Harry closed his eyes. He imagined that he was already on the couch. A sudden rushing sound passed through his ears, and he found himself standing on the sofa cushions.

Lupin smiled. "Excellent," he said. "Do it again." Harry jumped down from the sofa, and strode back to where he had started out.

He closed his eyes again, and again found himself on the sofa.

"Good, good," Lupin said. "Now I want you to try it with your eyes open."

Harry walked back to his starting point, and looked at the sofa. _I'm already there_, he thought. The world dissolved around him, and then came back into focus, he was back on the couch.

Lupin was smiling. "I must say, Harry, most wizards never learn how to Apparate, and for those who do, it takes a long time to learn."

Harry sat down on the sofa, waiting for Lupin to continue.

"Most times when you Apparate, there will be certain points where you will appear; you will have no control over where you show up. These are safe points, I believe one of them was the forest for the Quidditch World Cup, but when you Apparate, you will automatically appear there." Lupin walked to the window and peeked out. "Try to Apparate into the center of their snowball fight."

Harry nodded, and cleared his mind. Next thing he knew, he was being hit in the face by a fist-full of snow.

"Ha! Gotcha, Harry!" Neville yelled.

Harry smiled and bent over to pick up some snow. He threw it back in Neville's direction, and hit him on the arm. Harry was hit in the back, and turned to see Ginny poking her tongue out at him.

He ran to the cover of some trees, and joined in their fight. Lupin also came out, and joined Harry's team, laughing as though he hadn't laughed for years.

-

That night, while he was lying in bed, Harry listened to rain lashing at the windows. It had started to rain as the sun had gone down earlier that day.

His mind wandered back to Padfoot's Pasture. He imagined himself walking through the clearing with his godfather, perhaps laughing as Sirius told him about one of his pranks, or maybe talking about Voldemort's newest reign of terror. He wondered what Sirius would have said if he had known about the prophecy. Harry rolled over and tried not to imagine the look on Sirius' face when he had been hit with that Stunning Spell.

The temperature dropped several degrees. At first Harry thought that his window might have blown open, but then he noticed the deathly silence that pressed in on his eardrums that could only mean one thing.

Dementors.

He rolled out of bed and snatched up his wand from his bedside table. He ran from his room out into the hallway. Looking left and right, he saw that everyone had their doors closed. Good. He rushed to the kitchen, and froze when he saw the towering figures gliding in through the open door.

Harry cast his mind around for a happy thought. All he could think of was Sirius, for some strange reason.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" he yelled. Not surprisingly, only a wisp of silvery smoke appeared. The dementor impatiently tried to sweep it aside as he moved towards Harry. Harry backed up into the wall, his wand still raised.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" he cried again. This time nothing happened. Harry felt his world slipping from his grasp. He was falling to the ground.

"_Expecto_. . . . _Expecto_. . . ." But nothing happened. The dementor was lowering it's hood, it's clammy hands were stretching out towards Harry. Harry's eyes rolled up in his head as he felt the cold breath on his face. . . .

"_SIRIUS!_ _SIRIUS!_"

"_There's nothing you can do, Harry _—"

"_Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!_"

"_It's too late, Harry _—"

"_We can still reach him _—"

_The sounds of someone struggling for breath as they wrestled with someone else. . . ._

"_There's nothing you can do, Harry. . . nothing. . . . He's gone._"

-

_Hang in there, Harry._

"Sirius?"

_Don't let go._

"Sirius? Is that you?"

_You have to fight, Harry. You can't give up._

"I won't."

_Promise me._

"I promise."

_Wake up, Harry._ The voice was getting softer.

"Sirius! Don't leave me!"

_Wake up_. . . .

"Sirius!"

_Don't give up._

"Sirius!"

_I love you, Harry._

"SIRIUS!" Harry sat bolt upright. He was covered in a cold sweat, sitting on his bed in his room.

"Harry!" a voice cried from the doorway.

Harry sat, trying to catch his breath. He clutched his chest, his eyes closed, tears pouring silently from his eyes.

Someone pushed his shoulder and made him lie back down. A damp cloth was put to his forehead.

"Where are the dementors?" he asked wearily.

"They're gone. Neville scared them off."

"Neville—?"

"Open your mouth, Harry."

Harry silently obeyed. He tasted the sweet chocolate being put on his tongue. He felt better, his body warmed up as he swallowed to morsel.

He reached to his bedside table to retrieve his glasses, and when he put them on he saw Hermione breaking off more pieces of chocolate.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Open—" she put more chocolate on his tongue "— The dementors got to you. We came out when we heard you trying to get rid of them. One of them was about to kiss you. Neville used his Patronus on them. . . it was brilliant."

Harry rubbed his temples. "I couldn't fight them," he said in a small voice. "I tried, but I couldn't. . . ."

"Harry, that's nothing to be ashamed of. You've been through such a horrible ordeal, it's not your fault you couldn't find a happy memory."

"All I could think about was Sirius," Harry said, wiping his eyes.

Hermione looked at him sadly, and then set down the chocolate on the table. She leaned over and hugged him tightly. Harry buried his face in her hair.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Harry. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have known the dementors were even in the house until it was too late."

Harry nodded, and they separated.

"Dumbledore's in the kitchen. Do you want to see him?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

Hermione nodded her understanding, and gave Harry another piece of chocolate. "Try to sleep. It's still nighttime."

Harry rolled over to his side as Hermione left, closing the door behind her. He couldn't sleep. Sirius had spoken to him, he was sure it had been him, and Harry wished once more that he would have another chance to speak with his godfather.

As sleep finally came to Harry, he couldn't help thinking that Sirius was with him in that room, perhaps in his dog form, curling up on the floor, prepared to watch over him. 

Somehow he knew that Padfoot lives on, just like Prongs, inside of him.

-

****

A/N I'm working like a house-elf on the next chapter, but I won't be able to get it out for a bit, I suppose.

peace

felony melanie


	8. 8

****

Disclaimer In chapter 1

****

A/N Too short. . . way too short. . . . And it took me too long to get it out. I'm sooooooo sorry. School was more than I expected, and the teachers handed out homework like crazy. I want to update more than once a week, but I don't know how possible that is. So bear with me as I scurry around trying to find time. Where's a time-turner when you need it?

-

****

Leaving

It was still raining the next morning when Harry woke up, but he didn't get out of bed like he normally did. He found that he had a throbbing headache, and instead remained in bed, staring absently at the wood ceiling.

Hermione came knocking not too much later, obviously concerned that he hadn't appeared yet. She left him some porridge, which he didn't eat and instead left on the bedside table. He drifted back to sleep a bit later, and when he awoke the rain had stopped. Finally, he clambered out of bed.

"Hey, Harry," Neville said. He was sitting on the couch when Harry entered the den.

"Neville," Harry responded, his voice low and hoarse. He gave Neville a rough, one-armed hug. "Thanks for the help with the dementors."

Neville blushed slightly. "I had a good teacher," he mumbled.

Harry turned to the other people in the room, and gave them a small wave.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Ginny asked. She was sitting on the couch in between Dean and Neville.

Harry shrugged, scratching his head. "Like I got hit with a freight train." He looked around. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"They went back to Dumbledore's hide-out. They want to move us from here because of the dementors," Ginny said.

Harry nodded and stood with his hands in his pockets for a minute.

"Well don't just stand there!" Seamus said cheerfully. "Come and sit down! Budge up there, Dean."

Harry yawned and fell onto the soft cushions between Seamus and Dean.

"Did you eat?" Parvati asked from her seat by the fire.

"No." Harry shook his head. "Not too hungry."

He saw Parvati exchange a look with Lavender.

"What?" Harry asked.

Lavender spoke, with an encouraging glance from Parvati. "We were wondering, Harry. . ." she said slowly.

"Yes?" Harry prompted.

"We were wondering what you. . . what you hear when the dementors get near you. . . . I mean, it affects you like nobody else. . . ."

Harry stared at her. He was dimly aware that everyone in the room was watching him eagerly. He lowered his head into his hands and rubbed his face vigorously.

"Sorry," Lavender said immediately. "You don't have to answer. It was a stupid question. . . ."

"No," Harry said, looking at her again, "it's okay." He looked slowly around the room, taking in everyone's wary appearance. "When the dementor came on the Hogwarts Express in third year. . . I heard my Mum and Dad dying," he said shakily. "I've heard that ever since then. But last night it changed. . . . I heard Sirius dying. I—relived the night he was killed."

"He was your godfather, huh? Sirius Black?" Parvati asked.

Harry nodded. He pulled a picture of Sirius out of his pocket; he had been carrying it around for days. "This was him when my parent's got married. He was the best man."

Parvati took the photograph and held it so that Lavender could see it. Harry saw them both raise their eyebrows.

"He wasn't bad looking," Lavender said.

Harry smiled softly. "That doesn't matter now. He's gone." He took back the picture and put it in his pocket. "When will Ron and Hermione be back?"

"Now," a voice said from the hallway. Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione walking in.

"Well?" Ginny asked. "What's going to happen?"

"Pack up your things, everyone," Hermione announced. "Dumbledore's moving us."

"Great," Seamus said sarcastically. They all stood up and left the room, leaving Harry there with Hermione and Ron.

"Aren't you going to go pack, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I don't have much to pack," he shrugged. "Where are we going now?"

"Scotland," Ron said promptly. "A Muggle town on the other side of the mountains from Hogwarts."

Upon hearing the name of the castle, both Hermione and Ron saw Harry flinch. Ron immediately tried to correct his mistake.

"Sorry, mate, I forgot. . . ."

"No," Harry said. He turned to look out the window. "I guess I'll have to go back there sometime, huh?"

"Not until you're ready," Hermione said.

Harry didn't respond. He looked out to the trees still covered with snow. He remembered Padfoot's Pasture and turned back to his friends.

"When are we leaving?"

"As soon as possible."

"Wait for me." Harry jogged lightly from the room, and out the front door. He sped up when he reached the forest, and ran through it, crashing through low branches, and hopping over icy logs on the way. When he finally reached the clearing, he was wet with the snow that had fallen from the branches, and was breathing hard. He immediately turned to the thick tree that he had burned that message on. The words still scarred the bark.

Harry jammed his hands in his pockets and looked out across the snow. Most of it had melted with the recent rain, and a few leaves of green grass poked out through the white. He walked out to the log that he had sat on with Ron and Hermione, and sat down on it. He had his hands clasped in front of him as he looked around.

Somehow this place had become somewhat of a mourning ground for Harry, and now that he was going to leave it behind, it was like losing whatever he had to hold onto of Sirius. He tried to remember every detail he could of the clearing, even though Sirius had never actually been here. 

He dug in the snow by his feet and uncovered a small stone that had swirls of silver in it, and glittered in the sun. He slipped it into his pocket, and got up to leave. As he was passing by the engraved tree, he took out his wand again and added a new inscription to it.

__

Marauder Forever

He reached out his hand and gently dragged his finger along all of the letters. He stepped back and looked at the engraving.

"Goodbye, Sirius," he muttered under his breath, and made his way back to the house.

-

When they arrived at their new sanctuary, Dumbledore was there to greet them. Harry chose to avoid conversation by taking a look around their new house. No one objected to him leaving. 

The house was larger than their previous one, and had two stories. He immediately claimed his room which was at the top of the stairs at the end of the hall, and was isolated from the rest of the rooms. It had a bed, bookshelf, and a desk all the same color mahogany. The volumes of books on the shelves where thick and dusty, and reminded Harry eerily of the Restricted Section in the Hogwarts Library. The bed had red sheets with a gold bedspread, and was covered in pillows. The desk was well polished, and on top of it lay a quill, thick sheet of parchment, and an unopened bottle of ink. Harry put his one bag down on the bed and opened the shades on the windows. Brilliant light poured into the room, and Harry noticed the red carpet below him had gold swirls in it that glittered in the sunlight.

He looked out the window and noticed that the snow was still very thick on the ground. There was no forest nearby, instead there were more houses. He rested his elbows on the window sill and stared out to the blue sky.

Someone knocked on his door. "Harry?"

"Come in."

The door opened and Ginny poked her head in. "Hermione wanted me to tell you that Dumbledore's leaving."

"Okay."

"Aren't you going to say 'goodbye' to him?"

"I didn't say 'hi' in the first place," Harry said bitterly.

There was a pause, and then Ginny walked into the room, closing the door behind her. "You used to love talking to Dumbledore," she said.

"People change," Harry said, turning to face her and leaning against the sill.

"Why don't you talk to him anymore?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't have anything to say to him."

"But he might have something to say to you!"

"Well he can write an owl!" Harry said, his voice raised. "Just mind your own business!" Ginny stared at him. Harry turned to look out the window again, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I'll. . . I'll tell him you said 'bye,' then," she said, opening the door and leaving.

Harry groaned. "Ginny, wait." He ran to the door and flung it open. "Ginny, I'm sorry!"

Ginny was already at the end of the hall, but she turned back to him, the color rising in her face. "What?" she snarled.

"I didn't mean to lose my temper like that," Harry explained. Then he lowered his voice. "I just don't feel comfortable talking to Dumbledore yet. Give it time."

Ginny nodded and looked away.

"D'you. . . d'you know if he had anything to say?"

"He's going to take some people to Hogsmeade with him, to see if there's somebody they can help there. I think he wanted to ask if you wanted to go."

Harry sighed. "Okay."

"Will you go?"

"I might."

"Go tell him."

Harry glanced back towards his room, mainly to avoid Ginny's strict stare. "I guess I can." He looked back at Ginny who gave him a weak smile which he returned.

Dumbledore was enjoying a mug of hot chocolate when Harry and Ginny entered. Ginny stood off to the side next to Ron as everyone watched Harry.

"Ah, Harry, getting situated in your new bedroom?"

"I guess," Harry shrugged.

"I was just discussing with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger a trip to Hogsmeade I'm going to make tomorrow. I've invited them, so it's only fair that you receive the same invitation."

Harry nodded. "Ginny told me. I'd like to go, I want to feel like I'm doing something."

Dumbledore smiled. "We all do."

"What time are we leaving?"

"Noon."

"But won't we be seen?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "No, we won't." He reached down to a bag he had at his feet and pulled out several masses of black cloth. "I have gained possession of several Death Eater robes that I believe will fit you all perfectly."

Harry shook his head, a faint smile curving his lips. "Snape _does_ have his uses."

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry."

-

It turned out that the robes did fit Harry perfectly, and when he pulled the mask on and looked in the mirror, he gave himself a fright; he looked exactly like a Death Eater. He tucked his wand into his robes and went downstairs where Dumbledore was waiting for them. Harry met another Death Eater out in the hall.

"Harry?"

"Ron?"

"I feel like I'm bloody trick-or-treating," Ron mumbled.

"I have a feeling we won't be getting candy, though," Harry replied. A third masked figure emerged from a door right by the stairs.

"It's rather ironic that I'm wearing this," Hermione's voice said, her hand fingering the flowing robes, "when _I'm_ one of their main targets."

"Just keep your head down," Ron advised.

Harry was sure that had he seen Hermione's face, he would have seen her roll her eyes.

"Who else is coming?" Harry asked as they started to go down the stairs.

"Dumbledore," Hermione said.

"Ginny," Ron said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "I wish she'd stay here. . . ."

"Neville's coming too," Hermione added. "Everyone else decided to stay behind."

Harry nodded, but he wasn't sure if Ron or Hermione could see it; the masks limited their peripheral vision. They entered the kitchen to see a tall, powerful looking Death Eater offering Ginny a lemon drop. Ginny took one and popped it in her mouth. She looked as the three of them entered.

"Lift up your masks so I can tell who's who," she said. "I know the middle one's Ron. . . he's the tallest."

Harry lifted his mask, but was still watching Dumbledore. Even though his headmaster was hooded and masked, he still gave off an extraordinary feeling of power that seemed to come off him in waves.

"Everyone, gather here in the middle and hold out your left forearms," Dumbledore said.

Harry pulled up his sleeve and exposed his skin as he walked over to Dumbledore who pulled out his wand. A muttered spell later, a black skull with a snake protruding from it's mouth was imprinted on Harry's skin. It burned slightly, but then the pain subsided. Harry watched as all of his companions received the Dark Mark as well.

"They're not permanent; they'll disappear in 24 hours," Dumbledore explained, giving himself the mark as well. "If Voldemort calls the Death Eaters, however, your mark will burn. Okay. Everybody ready?"

Harry nodded and pulled his mask back down.

"We might pass a check point, so just be prepared to show them your arm," Dumbledore said. And then he disappeared silently with a swish of his robes.

"See you on the other side," Ron mumbled. Harry nodded and looked quickly around the kitchen, hoping that it wouldn't be the last time he saw it.

-

****

A/N In response to those of you wondering if there's going to be a H/Hr romance here, I'm not sure yet. At the moment I think Harry's too emotionally drained for a relationship, but tell me what you think. I'm open to all suggestions.

peace

felony melanie

ps - I can't really tell if my muse is back yet. . . lol. I'll let you know.


	9. 9

****

DisclaimerIn chapter 1

****

A/N Here it is. Thanks for all of the lovely reviews. I was too lazy to really edit this, so sorry if it's.... awful.

**__**

-

**__**

Hogsmeade

Shouts of laughter met Harry's ears. Screams of terror were also heard, hidden by the rumble of talking. Harry found himself in a sea of black pushing past him on all sides. One of the Death Eaters grabbed his wrist.

"Come on, Harry. This way," Hermione hissed to him. She pulled him out of the way, and out into an alley in between what remained of two buildings.

"How did you know it was me?" Harry asked.

"You were the only one who looked lost."

"Where's everyone?"

"Dumbledore's finding them," Hermione answered, watching the crowd carefully.

"How'd you get here before me?"

"I've been Apparating longer than you. And stop asking so many questions; we'll look suspicious."

Harry complied and looked at his surroundings for the first time. The alley he was standing in had huge piles of rubble strewn across the ground, covered in melting snow. The thick atmosphere of the place released a musty scent that teased Harry's nose. On his left was a brick wall with a burned hole in it, probably created by a Reducto Curse. He could see into the inside where several Death Eaters were drinking rum and singing. A few of them were discussing what seemed to be the best way to murder a Muggle.

"I'd burn 'em alive," one with a deep voice said. "An' watch 'em wriggle and cry." There were a few shouts of gleeful laughter.

"Chop their 'eads off," another one said, "an' throw 'em at people."

"No. Watch 'em bleed to death!" There was a great cheer as the final man spoke, slopping a great stream of rum onto his cloak.

Harry looked away, feeling sick, and tried to block the horrible laughter from his mind. Hermione seemed to be ignoring them also.

He watched cloaked Death Eaters passing the alley until a group of them stopped. Harry could tell immediately that the tall one was Dumbledore.

"We're all here?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Harry answered. It felt eerie, standing among hundreds of Death Eaters, and speaking to the only one who would have their master running for cover.

"Professor Snape is meeting us in a few minutes. He'll be coming down here. Now, don't speak to _anyone_ until you are sure you know who it is. I want you to pair up. Stay close to your partner at all times. Never lose sight of them."

Neville paired up with Ron as Hermione and Ginny shuffled together. Harry stayed with Dumbledore.

"Why is _Professor_ Snape meeting us?" Harry asked, spitting out the word 'professor.'

"He knows the locations of Draco Malfoy's body. He wishes us to give him a proper burial."

Harry nodded, and remembered with a twinge of pain the dream he had with the pool of water.

"Ah, yes, Severus," Dumbledore said. Harry turned and saw a cloaked figure prowling towards them.

"Headmaster," Snape said, inclining his head slightly. He turned to Harry. "You need not grip your wand so, Potter, no one knows it's you under that mask."

Harry released his hold on his wand which he had tucked into his robes, but had been keeping his hand on. . . just in case.

"Are you healed?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Harry answered.

"Good," Snape said as though he didn't think it was that good at all. He turned towards Harry's friends. "I take it this is your back-up squad, Headmaster?"

"We need as much help as we can get, Severus. They are fully capable of defending themselves. Mr. Longbottom fought off a dementor not 72 hours ago."

"Longbottom?" Snape hissed. He looked at the Death Eater who had just cowered.

"Ay! What're you doin' down there?"

Harry turned and saw a short plump Death Eater standing at the end of the alley peering at them.

Snape immediately turned. "My business is my own, Bingley," he snarled.

The plump man's face blanched. "Oh. . . oh yes, Severus. My apologies, sir. Carry on." He turned and ran out of sight.

Harry looked curiously at Snape.

"I see you have some authority around here, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"I am known to be in Voldemort's inner-circle. An 8th level Death Eater like Bingley wouldn't dare speak to me."

Harry could almost sense Snape's smirk.

"I have a secure location where we can talk. We won't be bothered there," Snape continued.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Lead us there."

They followed Snape out of the alley, into the swarming sea of Death Eaters. Harry immediately felt very nervous and vulnerable, and self-conscious that everyone there knew who he was. He felt a cold sweat coat his body as he tried his best to fit in. He followed Dumbledore, and when he looked behind him to see if the others were following them, he couldn't tell who was who.

"Just keep going. We're here," Hermione whispered. Harry didn't turn back around for the rest of the walk. They walked past a charred building that used to be Honeydukes, and up a hill that lead to the Shrieking Shack. Several Death Eaters were lounging by the gate, rum bottles on the ground surrounding them.

"What?" one of them said, giggling slightly.

"I said," the second one said, slurring his 's,' "someone's coming."

"What?"

"Someone's coming."

"Oi! Shut up, Nott, someone's coming!"

"You idiot. That's what I was saying."

"No you wasn't!" At this point the first Death Eater was clutching the fence to keep himself standing, he was laughing so hard.

Nott turned to the approaching group. "Need some privacy?"

Snape didn't spoke, he merely nodded.

"5 galleons."

Harry had almost reached for his pocket before he realized that he didn't have a knut on him.

Instead, Snape gave Nott the money.

"Pleasure doin' business with you," Nott said, bowing. He opened the gate, and Snape lead them up towards the Shrieking Shack. As they reached the front door, they heard the other Death Eater lose his grasp on the fence and crash to the ground, still laughing madly. Snape reached for the doorknob. Harry noticed that the boards had been peeled off of most of the house, the ones that had kept all the villagers out of the Shrieking Shack for years.

They entered the house, and immediately removed their masks and lowered their hoods. The place looked more or less the same as from when Harry last saw it three years ago. There was still a thick layer of dust on everything, but there were more footprints branching off in all directions, and some candy-wrappers and rum bottles littered the ground. They walked in silence upstairs to a room at the end of the hall Harry recognized all too well. The last time he had been here, it had been dark, but he recognized it instantly. Ron and Hermione recognized it too. Both of them had glassy looks in their eyes as they remembered the night they had met Sirius.

"I was over there," Ron said, pointing to the bed. "You came in, Harry, and I told you it was a trap. . . ."

"This was where I first met Sirius," Harry said, his voice flat. "He was over there," he pointed to the wall, "and I almost killed him. I—I thought he'd killed my parents. . . ."

"Oh, do be quiet, Potter," Snape said, his lip curling. "No one wants to hear you reliving your brief encounters with your late godfather."

"Have a heart, Severus," Dumbledore said.

Harry moved further into the room. Just near the bed, there was a smear of blood on the floor. He pointed at it and looked to Ron.

"From my leg," Ron said, smiling. "Sirius did that, remember?"

"Because you'd run off to chase Scab—Wormtail," Hermione said. 

"Scabbers was Wormtail?" Ginny asked.

Ron nodded.

"But he slept in our dormitory!" Neville exclaimed.

"Until he ran away," Ron said. "We'd thought it was because of Crookshanks, but it was really because of Sirius. Stupid rat."

"Buckbeak's trial was that night," Hermione recalled. "We'd gone down to see Hagrid. I found him in the milk jug, remember?"

They quieted as they remembered that night.

"We have issues to attend to," Snape said, interrupting their thoughts harshly.

Harry nodded and sat with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny on the bed.

"This is a secure premises, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, headmaster. Nott found a way inside not too long after he returned here from Azkaban. He uses it so that Death Eaters can get privacy from the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good. Do they know the passage to the Whomping Willow?"

"No," Snape answered. "After Hogwarts was taken, I came down here and hid the opening to the tunnel. I thought it might come in useful."

"And it has. But hasn't Peter Pettigrew disclosed the location of the tunnel to Voldemort?"

"He tried. They went to try to find the tunnel at the Whomping Willow. I cast a spell on the entrance so that they couldn't see it. Avery lost an eye to the tree." Snape smiled to himself as though recalling a sweet memory.

"Very well. Now on to business. We are here to gain possession of Draco Malfoy's body, as well as rescue any victims of this war. You know the location of the corpse?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "They took him out to the Forbidden Forest, and covered him with a cloak. To the best of my knowledge, he is still there, perhaps frozen beneath several feet of snow."

Everyone in the room shivered at the thought.

Dumbledore continued. "And do you know of any people we can help? Perhaps in hiding?"

Snape bowed his head. "The Death Eaters have destroyed the town and the villagers who lived there. They were under orders to leave none alive. . . ."

Everyone sat in silence.

"But, there still could be someone, right?" Harry asked. "Someone we can help?"

"Switch out of hero mode, Potter," Snape snarled. "There's no one to save now. There's nothing left."

Harry stood up. "I won't believe that. I can't believe that. There's someone here, I know there is; we just need to find them."

"We don't have that kind of time, Harry," Dumbledore said sadly. "We cannot linger here too long."

"But then what was the point of coming here?" Harry yelled.

"To retrieve the body of an innocent, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry clenched and unclenched his hands. He stood, breathing heavily, looking from one face to another.

"There _has_ to be something we can do," Harry said, urging, almost pleading.

"The best we can do is survive," Dumbledore said. "And try to find the end to all of the darkness."

Harry sought some comfort from his headmaster's eyes, but found only lost hope and sadness.

And then, Snape gasped, his right hand flying to his left forearm, and Harry's forehead seared with pain.

"He is calling us to him," Snape said. "I must go. You must go. Now."

Without hesitation, Harry tried to Apparate back to their hide-out. The world faded from view, and then quite suddenly snapped back, and he was still in the Shrieking Shack.

"Voldemort's put up anti-Apparition wards," Dumbledore said. "We must find another way out."

A door downstairs crashed open. By this time, Hermione was clinging to Harry's sleeve, and everyone had their wands drawn.

"Get out! Everyone!" Nott's drunken voice said. "The Dark Lord is summoning us!"

"Nott, you idiot!" Snape yelled. "We have the Dark Mark too, remember? We felt it!"

Harry tugged his mask back on and pulled his hood up. He saw a last glimpse of Hermione's terrified face before it was hidden by the mask.

"My scar hurts. That hasn't happened for a long time," Harry said.

"Your connection to Voldemort must be fading. Perhaps it will only hurt when you are near him now," Dumbledore said.

"It didn't hurt too much when I was in the dungeon," Harry went on.

"Maybe Voldemort would rather you'd suffer a different type of pain around him for once."

"Where are we going?" Neville said. "We aren't going to see _Him_ are we?"

"We _can't_!" Ginny exclaimed, her voice desperate. "We _can't_ go to Him! Harry's here, we'd be handing him over!"

"Forget about me!" Harry said. "What about you guys?"

"We could hide in the tunnel," Ron suggested hopefully.

Nott stumbled into the room, followed by several other Death Eaters. "Hurry up."

So their fate was decided. They couldn't risk stunning the Death Eaters, or their cover would be blown; and they couldn't try to get into the tunnel without being seen. So Harry hid his wand in the folds of his robes, and walked in silence down the stairs.

Out into the chilly air, the Death Eaters trouped. Harry could see hundreds, if not thousands, of Death Eaters making their way to the castle from Hogsmeade. It was a scary experience, walking amid them. But somehow, Harry felt like they were all experiencing the same thing; fear of what was coming. 

As they neared the castle, Harry's scar began to burn unbearably. They made it to the gates of Hogwarts, where Death Eaters were showing their Dark Marks to a squat Death Eater with a silver hand. Harry was the first of his group to reach the gates, and the man he knew to be Wormtail seized his wrist.

"Who are you loyal to?" Wormtail asked harshly.

Harry didn't know whether or not to say 'Voldemort' or 'The Dark Lord' or something else. Thankfully, Snape stepped forward and helped. "He is loyal to the Dark Lord, Pettigrew, as are you and I."

Harry could feel the silver hand's grip on his wrist tighten. "He does not need you to answer for him, Snape."

"I am loyal to the Dark Lord," Harry said. He pulled his sleeve up and exposed his fake Dark Mark. "Here is the proof."

Harry awaited Wormtail's reply. Instead, the Death Eater peered at him through his mask. "Your voice is so familiar," he said slowly. "Have we met?"

"We just did," Harry said.

"Oh, yes, of course," Wormtail said, bowing slightly.

"You're holding up the line, Pettigrew," Snape said. "Could you perhaps hold this happy little chat some other time?"

"Mind your manners, _Snivellus_," Wormtail said. Snape took a step towards Wormtail, towering over him.

"Simply because you are the Dark Lord's right hand man doesn't mean you can tell me what to do," he hissed. Harry caught the reference to Wormtail's silver right hand and smiled.

Wormtail, however, wasn't cowering. "I was never afraid of you, Snape."

"That's because you had Potter, Lupin, and Black to hide behind," Snape snarled.

"I never hid behind them. Those three gits _begged_ me to be friends with them, and then they didn't treat me right. I showed them in the end, though, didn't I? I watched Potter and his wife die, and then his son, come to think of it. I made Black go to Azkaban, and then he snuffed it. The Werewolf got off easy, but it's his turn next. His time will come. . . ."

Harry, without thinking, launched himself at Wormtail. Snape caught him around the middle, and held him back. Thankfully, a distraction was caused by the Dark Mark burning again, and Harry completely forgot about Wormtail when the pain from his scar nearly blinded him.

"Hurry up, the Dark Lord cannot wait!" Wormtail called. Snape held Harry by the scruff of his neck and dragged him through the gates. He only released him when they were a ways from Wormtail.

"Do you ever use your brain, Potter?" Snape said.

Harry straitened his robes. "I'm going to get that rat. Someday."

"Best not be a day when you're dressed as a Death Eater and supposedly dead," Snape said.

Harry rubbed his forehead and said nothing. 

"And stop rubbing that blasted scar of yours."

Harry ignored him.

They were soon joined by the rest of their group. Hermione whispered in Harry's ear.

"Just ignore Wormtail, Harry. He'll get what's coming to him soon enough."

"It would have been easier if you'd taken him down just now," Ron muttered on Harry's other side. Harry silently agreed.

They were nearing the castle entrance. Harry could see the icy lake, and the Quidditch Pitch in the distance. He remembered his Firebolt which Sirius had given him in his third year. He had lost that when Hogwarts was taken. It sickened him to think of some Death Eater riding around on it.

"So," Ron said in a would-be casual voice, "we're really doing this?"

"Just do not speak, Voldemort knows each of his supporters. He won't recognize us, and he'll know what's going on," Dumbledore said. Harry wondered how his headmaster sounded so determined, but then he looked up at the castle; really looked at it for the first time in a while.

It had used to be his home. It used to be his sanctuary, but now. . . . Now it meant death, in Harry's eyes. All he could see in it now was death, hatred, and an ever-lasting sadness. Every happy memory Harry had in this place came tumbling back over him; seeing his first ever broomstick being carried to him by an assortment of owls at breakfast, befriending Hermione and Ron, and the feeling of them by his side as he went to save the Philosopher's Stone, winning the House Cup, winning the Quidditch House Cup, his Firebolt rolling out of the packaging onto his bedspread, a snowball fight by the stone steps in his fourth year.

Instinctively, Harry looked across the grounds to a small, wooden cabin just by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The curtains were drawn, and snow had piled up around the door. Hagrid had left Hogwarts with everyone else, leaving behind his home.

A pang of pain shot through Harry's forehead. He gasped.

"Your scar?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded, willing himself not to rub his forehead with his fingers. "He's mad about something. Voldemort's mad." The emotions were coming to Harry just as they had in his fifth year.

Hermione was silent. They were going up the stone steps now, a horrible sense of foreboding washing over Harry. He couldn't go in there, they'd get caught! It was suicide!

He turned, and tried force his way back through the sea of black, but once again Snape stopped him. "Please do not make a spectacle of yourself. You've drawn enough attention to yourself already."

Harry's heart was beating uncontrollably in his chest. They were at the top of the steps now. His knees were weakening. He had to get away! But Snape's arm was still there. They were at the door.

"No!" Harry muttered, his scar burning upon his forehead.

He was dimly aware that Hermione had grasped his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. Ron was muttering in his ear, "It's all right, mate," though not sounding totally reassured himself. 

They stepped over the threshold, entering the castle once again.

-

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A/N Next chapter probably won't be up for a week, sorry! It's just the way my schedule has been working out. I can give you the title to the next chapter, though. "Hogwarts." Boy, that gives away a lot, doesn't it? Oh yeah, I named the Death Eater 'Bingley' because I'm reading Pride and Prejudice right now. lol. peace felony melanie


	10. 10

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DisclaimerIn chapter 1

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A/N It's here. And really awful too, if you ask me. But then again, my opinion doesn't count, right? I'm merely a slave writer striving to make you people happy. So here goes nothing.

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**__**

Hogwarts

Ron had linked an arm under Harry's, keeping his knees from giving out. They were carried by the crowd into the Great Hall where students and more Death Eaters were already packed in tightly. Harry's eyes rolled in his head as another shot of pain coursed through his body.

"Wait a minute," Harry gasped into Ron's ear.

"What is it?" Ron asked, his voice faint.

"Voldemort's. . . Voldemort's _happy_ now. He was mad a second ago. . . ."

Snape went off to join the other teachers, and sat next to Voldemort's high chair, looking around the hall importantly.

Harry walked with his friends through the crowd, and lined up against the wall, trying their best to fit in.

Finally, the last Death Eater filed in. The Hall waited, with bated breath, for Voldemort to arrive. Harry kept his eyes on the doorway, his wand still in his hand, and waited with the rest of them. A few tense minutes later, a swooping figure appeared and strolled to the center of the head table. Everyone in the hall muttered "My Lord."

For a moment Voldemort just stood in silence, his eyes sweeping over his followers, daring anyone to speak. Harry's scar was twinging madly. And then, to Harry's horror, he pulled out his wand and pointed it strait at Harry's group.

"Come forward, Dumbledore," the Dark Lord hissed.

Harry was frozen. Suddenly the pain in his scar didn't matter anymore. The silence was unbearable, as every head in the hall turned towards them.

"Come now, Dumbledore, Snape told be all about your plan to _save_ people. You really _trusted_ him, didn't you? But he's been faithful to me since the beginning. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. No one can escape Lord Voldemort."

Harry's wand was slipping in his sweaty fingers. He didn't know what to do. 

Dumbledore started to respond, "Except for Harry Potter, of course, Tom. . . ."

And then, a voice invaded his thoughts.

_Stay here, Harry_.

It was Dumbledore's voice, but it couldn't be! He was talking right now to Voldemort.

_If Voldemort doesn't know you're here, we may get the opportunity to drive him from these halls. Tell Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville to wait for my signal. You will leave the hall as quickly as possible. I will summon the Order. Do not try to join in. It's your responsibility to get everyone safely out of here. Get them back to Hogsmeade, and to the cave in the side of the mountain. I promise I'll join you there._

Harry looked at his headmaster, but though he could not see his face, knew he wasn't looking at him. Harry didn't know how to respond, so he stayed silent.

This was it. This was the end. There would be no chance of survival after this. Harry was sure Dumbledore didn't have his wand in his hand, but even if he did, there was no way he could defend himself from thousands of Death Eaters.

Harry's breathing was becoming frantic. He needed to do something, he couldn't just leave. As Dumbledore stepped forward and continued speaking to Voldemort, Harry saw his hand slip slyly into his pocket, unnoticed by someone who was looking at his face. Dumbledore pulled off the mask and hood, and let the Death Eater costume fall to the ground as he revealed midnight blue robes. Looking down at the robes Dumbledore had just been wearing, Harry saw something glowing in the pocket. He didn't dare bend down to examin it, so tried to ignore it at the moment.

"You thrived here once, Tom, but you are not welcome in this castle any longer," Dumbledore said, striding forward as though he was still headmaster.

"You're mistaken. _You_ are not welcome here any longer. I would suggest that you leave immediately."

Harry was watching Snape. _Why_ hadn't he told Voldemort that the rest of them were there? Surely Voldemort would love to finish off Harry.

Dumbledore didn't falter in his walking, so Voldemort continued. "You cannot kill me, Dumbledore. Only the boy could, but too bad, I've gotten him out of the way now."

"I will ask you once again, Tom. Leave Hogwarts before you'll regret it."

"You have no power here, _headmaster_."

"Leave now. I do not wish to see your face here again," Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling threateningly.

"_Crucio!_" The light appeared from Voldemorts wand, and shot towards Dumbledore, though, in a flash, Dumbledore had raised his wand and blocked the spell. The light shattered and faded away.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Dumbledore called. It hit Voldemort, and the Dark Lord's body glowed white for a moment, and then faded. His wand was still clasped in his long, pale fingers.

Voldemort laughed. "You think you can defeat me with such petty spells? I misjudged you, Dumbledore. I thought you to be cleverer than that. My apologies."

Dumbledore started chanting some words in Latin, the syllables sliding over his tongue, and slashed his wand through the air. Voldemort was thrown backwards in a blaze of white light, and immediately several Death Eaters in the crowd leaped at Dumbledore, blocking Harry's view of his headmaster. He needn't wait for Dumbledore's signal, however.

Harry reached out for Hermione's wrist. "We have to get out of here. C'mon!" he said.

They ran from the hall, shoving their way past Death Eaters who were scrambling to reach Dumbledore first to have their shot with him. Harry reached the doors, and pulled them open. He shoved his friends out through it first, and right when he was about to follow them, someone seized his arm. He turned, looked into the masked face of a Death Eater, then looked down to see a gleaming silver hand tightly gripping his arm.

"Hermione! Get everyone to the cave! Hurry!" Harry shouted, for his friends were whipping out their wands and preparing to join the battle. But, thankfully, Hermione tugged everyone out of view, and Harry was left alone.

"I _knew_ I recognized your voice," Wormtail said. He whipped Harry's mask off, and pulled down his hood. "Three years in your dorm with you, I should have recognized you sooner." Harry tried to wrench his arm from his grasp, but to no avail.

"You shouldn't try to run. We thought you were dead. Obviously Snape saved you that night. I knew all along he was a traitor. The Dark Lord will be most pleased when I turn Snape in. And as for you," Wormtail pulled off his mask and narrowed his eyes at Harry, "I'd like to _thank_ you for saving my life that night. You see, it has come in most useful."

Harry twisted his arm, writhing to get out of his grip. Wormtail was holding Harry's right arm, Harry's wand arm, the arm that held Harry's only defense.

Wormtail tightened his grip, and Harry tried not to scream from the pain. He tried one final time to tug himself free, when he felt his bone shatter. Wormtail obviously felt the snap, because a wicked smile spread across his features. Harry screwed his face up in pain, and brought his left hand to his arm, trying to pry the silver fingers off. Instead, Wormtail easily threw Harry from him, Harry landing at the feet of another Death Eater who looked down, saw who he was, and kicked him hard in the chest. Harry scrambled to his feet, his right arm hanging useless by his side as he clutched his wand with his left hand.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry cried, stunning the Death Eater who had kicked him. Wormtail had his own wand drawn, and was walking towards Harry.

"_Crucio!_" Wormtail shouted. His aim was poor, and Harry easily dodged it. Instead, the spell hit another Death Eater who collapsed in a fit of screams. Everyone turned to the source of the screams, and eventually their eyes met Harry's face.

"You filthy, rotten, mudblood!" a Death Eater yelled. He flung himself at Harry, but before contact was made, the Death Eater had been stunned by a spell coming from Harry's left. Looking, he saw a Death Eater slowly lowering his wand.

"Snape, get out of here!" Harry yelled, clutching his right arm to his body.

"No," Snape said. "I have unfinished business."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry screamed. "Go!"

"I do not need you to save me, Potter," Snape said, peeling away his mask and lowering his hood. "I have had enough debt from your family already."

Snape raised his wand and, instead of pointing it at Wormtail pointed towards where Dumbledore and Voldemort stood battling. He pushed his way through the crowd, and Harry watched as he stopped, his wand pointed at the Dark Lord's heart.

"You told us to never look you in the face," he snarled, his face mere inches from the Dark Lord's. "You wanted us to be afraid of you, but I never was. I have been loyal to Dumbledore and Dumbledore only since 18 years ago, before you disappeared. I knew you suspected me, I knew you tried to read my mind, to see who I really was loyal to, but Dumbledore gave me Occlumency lessons. I learned to block you from my mind, something no other Death Eater has ever done. You never could prove anything. But now that you know, I want to show you what I really think of you."

"Severus —" Dumbledore said, walking forward.

"No, Albus," Snape said. "I thank you for taking care of me these past years, but this is something I must do. _Stupefy!_"

The spell shot through the air and connected with Voldemort's body, causing him to stumble backwards, but then regain his footing.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Voldemort screeched. Snape deftly avoided it, and it hit a watching Death Eater who fell to the ground.

"_Expelliarmus!_" The spell was again absorbed by Voldemort.

"I did not teach you the Unforgiveable Curses for nothing, Snape," Voldemort said. "Why don't you try to fight me like a man?"

"I don't need to be illegal to duel, _Voldemort_," Snape said icily. Voldemort shot a Crucio at him which crumbled the marble at Snape's feet.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Snape yelled, just as Voldemort shouted a curse that sent a sword sailing through the air; a sword that had appeared from no where. Snape's curse dissappeared into Voldemort right when the sword pierced his body.

"No!" Harry yelled. Snape fell to his knees, his eyes wide in shock. Next thing Harry knew, he was running forward, towards Snape. The Potions Master had his hands wrapped around the sword, red blood spilling from the wound and coating his fingers. 

Voldemort reached Snape before Harry, however, and gripped the sword's hilt.

Snape looked up at Voldemort, his eyes dazed, and then the Dark Lord twisted the sword, his eyes laughing at Snape. Snape let out a cry of pain, and then fell backwards. Harry reached Snape and bent over him, not caring that the battle had restarted, and Dumbledore was keeping Voldemort away from Snape and Harry, and not caring that spells were being aimed at him from the surrounding Death Eaters.

"Snape!" Harry yelled. He might despise the guy, but this was the man who had saved him from death and torture. Harry wasn't about to see him die.

"Do master your Occlumency, Potter," Snape said, still managing a cold glare. "It will come in useful some day."

"Snape!" Harry yelled again, unsure of what else to say.

Snape blinked slowly and licked his lips. "What do you say. Truce?" He extended a bloody hand, which Harry shook.

"Snape—" Harry started, Snape's hand still clutched in his.

"Please, don't get sentimental, Potter," he said, a smile curving his thin lips. "I already know how much you'll miss me."

Harry tried to smile back, but he couldn't. "Say hi to Sirius for me."

Snape nodded, coughed, and slowly, his hand slipped from Harry's and fell limply to the ground.

Harry had to fight down the bile rising in his throat as he looked away from the corpse. His hand found the sword's hilt, and he looked at the area of blade just below it, where he saw something engraved in the silver.

Salazar Slytherin.

Harry stood up and backed away from the body. He turned, and met a Death Eater which he easily stunned. He disarmed another, but he was becoming tired. The pain in his arm was still growing, and the battle was far from over. He ran towards the door, wanting to get as far away from Snape as he could.

He met Wormtail again, and, momentarily forgetting his wand that he now held in his damaged right hand, punched him with all his might with his left hand. Wormtail stumbled backwards and held his jaw where Harry's fist had connected with his face.

"You killed my parents, you filthy rat!" Harry yelled. He pounced towards Wormtail again and knocked him to the ground. He didn't care about his wand right now, all he cared about was causing the man as much pain as he deserved. Harry hit every inch of him he could reach.

The silver hand found Harry's throat.

Harry gasped for air, his wand falling to the ground with a clatter.

"It's time for you to die, Mr. Potter," Wormtail snarled, turning so that he was crouching above Harry.

Harry opened his mouth and tried to suck some air in to his lungs, but his chest was burning from lack of air, and no oxygen could reach it. He brought his left hand up to his neck, desperately trying to release himself. His world was spinning. He distantly saw the ceiling of the Great Hall above him, glowing pink in the setting sun. His vision was going black.

And he thought of Sirius.

****

TBC . . . .

-

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A/N Sorry if that sword thing seemed a little odd, I watched Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship of the Ring not too long ago, and I always pictured Snape dying heroically. In my mind I compared Boromir to Snape, and, well, that seemed heroically to me. I wasn't going to kill him off at all, actually, he just kind of. . . killed himself. Personally I believe that Snape is truly evil, and really on Voldemort's side, and there's a good editorial explaining why at Mugglenet.com . I think it's titled "What's Eating Snape?" but I'm not entirely certain.

On another note, I dared a friend of mine to write a depressing Harry Potter story since she can only write happy fairy tale stories. Her penname is okidokiboki if you wanna check her out. She's pretty good. Review for her too, please. The story I dared her to write is her most recent one.

Okay, next chappie won't be up for a bit.

peace

felony melanie

Oh, and I need to change my summary for this story. If anyone has a good suggestion, let me know. My summary isn't sufficient right now.


	11. 11

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DisclaimerIn chapter 1

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**__**

Breathe

A surge of energy ran through Harry's body, much like it had in his summer before fifth year when Uncle Vernon had been strangling him. But Wormtail didn't seem to feel it, perhaps because of the silver hand. Yet Harry's mind was clearer. He turned his head slightly and saw his wand some six feet from him where it had rolled. He stretched out his broken right arm, and the wand flew to his hand.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry gasped, jamming the wand against Wormtail's thick throat. The wizard toppled off of him, and Harry rolled to his stomach, massaging his neck with his left hand. He stayed on the ground for a moment, savoring the feeling of air in his lungs, and then decided to rejoin the battle.

He scrambled unsteadily to his feet, and looked down at Wormtail's unconscious form, and then across the hall where Voldemort and Dumbledore were still battling. Several Death Eaters swarmed towards Harry, who chose to turn and run. He didn't think he had enough energy to duel them. He had barely reached the doors leading out to the Entrance Hall when they flew open on their own accord, and twenty or so Order members rushed into the hall, followed by hundreds of Ministry officials. Instantly the Death Eaters that were chasing Harry were stunned.

"Harry!" Lupin yelled, rushing over to him and pulling him from the hall. Harry's scar twinged again, and he looked over his shoulder to see Dumbledore stumbling backwards with the effects of a spell.

"Dumbledore!" Harry gasped, straining to get out of Lupin's grasp.

"No, Harry. You have to get out of here."

Harry didn't have enough energy to argue. Instead, he looked up into Lupin's tired face. "Snape's dead."

Some form of emotion crossed Lupin's face. What it was, Harry couldn't tell. He hung his head as yet more Ministry officials rushed into the castle, shouting orders to each other. Once Lupin and Harry were out on the steps to the castle, away from the battle, Lupin mended Harry's arm and put it in a sling to allow it's strength to come back.

"Thanks," Harry said.

"You'll have to take some potions for the swelling, but at least the bones aren't broken now," Lupin responded almost mechanically. His movements were quick and jerky, and the creases under his eyes were quite obvious.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

Lupin looked at Harry. "Last night was the full moon," he said.

Harry dropped his head. "Oh."

Lupin didn't say anything else, and Harry wanted to move the conversation away from that topic.

"Dumbledore wants me to go to the cave in Hogsmeade, where Sirius lived," he said.

"Then that's where I'll take you," Lupin said, leading Harry down the stairs.

"You don't have to come. I can manage —" Harry started, but stopped when he saw the determined look on his professor's face.

Harry realised he still had his wand clutched in his hand, and tucked it away. They entered Hogsmeade, and Harry saw that it was eerily empty. There were abandoned beer and rum bottles on the ground, and the ocassional newspaper, but aside from that, there was nothing. And the cloudy sky managed to make it appear that it was dusk.

They were just passing by Honeydukes when an explosion rocked the ground, causing Lupin to grasp Harry's shoulders, to steady him. They both looked back towards the castle to see a black cloud of smoke rising from it. The better part of one of it's walls was destroyed, only a pile of rubble. Harry stood in shock, almost mesmerized by the sight. Dust engulfed the castle and hid it from view, and Harry felt Lupin tugging at his arm again.

"C'mon," Lupin said gently.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat painfully, and continued walking through the village. They reached the rocky hill, and clambered up the boulders, slipping on the occasionaly mound of snow. Finally, they made it to a narrow gap in the rock, where Harry and Lupin squeezed through. Several pairs of arms helped them in.

"Harry!"

"Professor Lupin!"

"What happened? We heard an explosion!"

"Is anyone hurt?"

"Where's Professor Dumbledore?"

Lupin held up a hand and silenced the anxious group. "The explosion you heard was Eastern wall falling. Professor Dumbledore is back at Hogwarts, fighting Voldemort with several hundred Ministry and Order of the Phoenix members. And yes, Snape was killed."

Harry sat with his back against the uneven wall and watched the effect these words had on his friends. Hermione and Ginny clasped their hands to their mouths. Neville looked down at his hands in his lap, and Ron's face seemed to harden.

"But he had joined _Him_, hadn't he?" Ron asked viciously.

Lupin bowed his head. "It appears that Snape was opening a window for Dumbledore to retake Hogwarts. Severus dueled Voldemort in the end. I guess he wanted to end it on his own terms."

Harry brought a hand up to his head and massaged his temples.

The group sat in silence, seeming to soak up this information. Disbelief was etched into all of their faces.

"And what happened to you?" Hermione asked, turning to him.

Harry lowered his hand and looked at her. "Wormtail," he said, indicating his healing arm.

"I hope you killed that rat, Harry," Ron said, rubbing his fist menacingly. "Because I don't know if I can stand seeing him again."

Harry shook his head. "As far as I know he's lying stunned in the Great Hall."

"I hope someone steps on him," Ron muttered.

Harry said nothing and turned his gaze down to the rocky floor. There was a chicken bone lying by his feet. He remembered so clearly in his fourth year when him, Ron, and Hermione had brought Sirius food.

Another explosion rocked the ground. Tiny rocks from the ceiling showered on their heads as the mountain around them groaned.

"We should get out of here," Lupin said. "The cave won't hold another explosion."

They clambered back out to the mountain side, and from his spot on a large boulder, Harry had a clear view of the castle. The dust had settled, and black smoke was rising from the castle where a fire was visible pouring out of the front doors. Several Dark Marks hovered over the castle, gleaming brightly amid the smoke. The Eastern Wall was still in ruins, and tiny beams of light told Harry that the battle was still raging. Hermione grasped his arm.

"C'mon," she said gently.

Harry and the rest of them slid down the side of the hill, finally landing in a puddle of melting snow. They walked down Hogsmeade which seemed to have an unnatural calm settled down upon it. A bird was whistling in a tree, leaping jovially from branch to branch. Harry wondered how everything could be fine here when war was raging not a mile away at the castle.

"Looks like rain," Neville commented, gazing up to the heavens.

Harry looked up too, and saw black, ominous looking clouds hovering above them.

And then, everything went silent. Harry didn't need to hear Ron's groan of, "Dementors," to know what was coming. The chill went deeper than Harry's skin, there was no way to mistake that feeling. He pulled out his wand.

"Harry, don't!" Ginny said.

Harry didn't pay attention. He had to settle this with the dementors once and for all. He needed to prove that he could handle them. In a daze, he took off running towards the Shrieking Shack right as the dementors appeared over the hill.

"Come and get me," Harry snarled at them. The dementors in the front lowered their hoods immediately, as though they understood Harry. They were rising to the challenge, sweeping down the side of the hill at an incredible speed.

Harry waited until they were 20 feet away to attack. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" he yelled. The silvery stag appeared, and charged down the front group of dementors. It turned, and took down another ten who all turned and fled.

Usually when Harry performed the Patronus Charm, he felt tired afterwards, as though he had run a great distance. But the opposite was happening now. The longer his Patronus stayed out there, the more strength Harry seemed to get.

More were spilling over the ridge, but Harry welcomed them. They would see that they could no longer make him suffer. They could see that he had finally let Sirius go, that his death would no longer keep him from defending himself.

Finally, the last dementor turned and fled, and Harry was left, wand still in his hand, and the stag trotting back towards him. He reached out his hand and patted the animal on it's powerful shoulders.

His friends were right behind him now. He turned back towards them as the gleaming animal faded from sight.

Lupin was smiling genially, apparently proud of Harry's exceptional Patronus. But Harry didn't want to hear a congratulation at the moment. He just wanted to go back to the castle to make sure that Dumbledore was all right, and that no one else had died.

"You can't go back until it's over," Lupin said after Harry had voiced his thoughts.

"But how do we know when it's over?" Harry replied angrily, wanted to make himself useful.

"Like that," Ginny said quietly, her eyes on the castle. Harry spun around to see a hundred or so Death Eaters sprinting through the Hogwarts gates, Voldemort in the front. Once they had entered the village, each and every one of them Disapparated. Harry had never seen such a bizarre sight.

Harry realized his mouth was hanging open, and promptly shut it. "So. . . . So can I go in then?"

He looked at Lupin who was also wide-eyed after what he had just seen. He nodded.

Harry lead the group back to the Hogwarts gates, and past the winged boars. A roll of thunder crossed the dark sky, and rain began showering their heads as suddenly as if it had been waiting for them to enter the castle grounds once again. Up close, Harry saw that the Eastern wall was magically mending itself, already most of the Great Hall hidden from view as stone after stone replaced itself. The fire was still raging in the Entrance Hall, but Harry saw that a path had been cut through it where no flame burned, presumably made by Voldemort. It was obviously a magical fire as well, since there was no wood in the hall to fuel it.

They entered the castle and followed the path to the Great Hall. Upon entering, nearly every single person in the hall pointed their wands at them.

"Lower your wands, they are with us," a voice called across the hall. Harry turned to see Dumbledore looking back at them.

In the stretch of hall that lay between them, was a mass carnage so horrible that Harry had to close his eyes momentarily to regain his composure.

Right by his feet was an Auror who had an odd assortment of jinxes displayed on his face, but who's eyes were open, and staring emptily in front of him. Harry could tell he was dead. Not far from him was another Auror who was curled up in a ball, face slacked, with copious amounts of blood pouring from a smoking hole in his chest. Another female Auror had massive boils coating her body. Everywhere Harry looked he saw dead Aurors, with mixtures of painful jinxes disfiguring them. He saw no dead Death Eaters. Large amounts of them were bound together on the other side of the hall, several of them limp in their binds, a couple of them screaming threats to the Ministry members surrounding them.

Harry made his way through the hall, to where Dumbledore was standing. At his feet was a body covered by Dumbledore's blue cloak. Harry knew who lay there.

"What happened to all of the students?" Harry asked.

"I sent them to the Slytherin Common Room. An Auror is keeping an eye on them. They will all be given trials, and will be reprimanded accordingly."

"Where's Wormtail?" Harry asked, tearing his eyes away from the floor and forcing himself to look at his headmaster.

"The Ministry has him in possession. Sirius' name will be cleared in due time," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

Harry looked away as his heart seemed to tighten. Sirius would no longer be the run-away convict, but the misunderstood soul. Harry wondered what the Daily Prophet would have to say about him now. The articles would probably be along the lines of what they had said about Harry; tragically misunderstood, forced to bear ridicule and slander.

Hermione and Ron came to join Harry, both gazing down at the blue cloak. Harry didn't want to look at their faces, he didn't care to know whether they were sad or happy or indifferent. Because at the moment, Harry felt anger rising in him once more; anger at the Ministry for sending Sirius to Azkaban without a trial, anger at the Ministry for refusing to believe that Voldemort was back for so long, anger at Snape for killing himself so recklessly, anger at Wormtail, anger at Sirius for keeping him waiting. . . .

He tore himself away from his friends and made his way back to the Entrance Hall where Ministry members were dousing the fire with water from their wands. He climbed the great marble staircase, gliding his hand along the banister. Unconsciously he skipped the trick step that Neville always forgot to avoid, and pulled back the hidden tapestry at the top of the stairs that led up to Gryffindor Tower. He remembered everything. He hadn't truly lived in the castle for close to 9 months, but the secrets of Hogwarts had never left him.

When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, it was to find her snoozing in her frame.

"Hello?" Harry said cautiously.

She slept on.

"Hello?" Harry said a bit louder.

She jerked awake. "Dear me, must have dozed off —" she eyed him. "Is that really. . . you?"

"Of course it's me," Harry said. "But I don't seem to know the password."

"How can I be sure it's you?" the picture asked him.

"Because Albus Dumbledore is downstairs in the Great Hall. Hogwarts has been retaken."

The Fat Lady sat up proudly in her chair. "Not one person has entered Gryffindor Tower since last June. The password is 'Merlin's Beard'."

Harry grinned. "Thanks." She swung forward on her hinges, and allowed Harry to scramble through the portrait hole.

It was similar to stepping into a different world. The common room was the same as Harry remembered it, scarlet and gold everything filling the room. He caught notice of the fire blazing in the grate before sprinting up the stairs to the dormitory labled 'Sixth Year Boys'. He opened the door, and found all five beds neat and tidy, with everyone's trunk at the foot of the appropriate bed. Harry located his, and opened it. His broomstick, invisibility cloak, books, potions, robes, photo album, everything was still there.

With a content sigh, he fell back on his bed.

Hogwarts was free once more.

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	12. 12

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Disclaimer In chapter 1

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A/N This is the last chapter. It has been a pleasure writing for you guys, and I look forward to doing so in the future. In response to Firebreath - YES YES YES! GO FOR IT! 

okay then, on with the story

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**__**

Return

Harry was in the Gryffindor Common Room when Ron burst through the portrait hole nearly a week after Voldemort had left the castle.

"They're here!" he exclaimed. "They're coming back! Come see!" And he left before Harry could respond.

Groaning, Harry rolled off of the couch in front of the fire and set his book on the table. He wandered over to the window and looked out.

Students were flooding in through the gates. Definitely tired and scared, but alive and happy. Professor McGonagall was leading a troupe of first years with the aid of a cane. Hagrid was striding towards his cabin, Fang right at his heels. Tiny Professor Flitwick was leading some Ravenclaws while conversing with Professor Vector. Harry even saw Firenze and Professor Trelawny pause to marvel at the beauty of the castle they had gone so long without seeing.

The castle was whole once more, having healed itself over the course of three days. A good cleaning had left Harry with the feeling that no one had lived there except the rightful Hogwarts students and Professors for the past 9 months. The house-elfs were eagerly working for Dumbledore again. They had never left the castle; their allegiance had been to Hogwarts and it's students, and so they had served the Death Eaters all the while, keeping out of sight behind suits of armor and in dark corners.

"Dobby made sure to send cold soup up to the Slytherin table once, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby told Harry one day when he had gone to visit the kitchens. Dobby then laughed nervously, his enormous eyes darting around the room.

Hermione had spent most of her time reacquanting herself with the Hogwarts Library of late. She took note that there was no longer a Restricted Section, and took advantage of this by swiping a Defense Against the Dark Arts book for Aurors in-training one day when no one was looking. She then gave Harry the book in private, telling him he might want to learn the Advanced Shield Charm.

Ron had spent a lot of time walking the Hogwarts grounds with Ginny in tow. It turned out that Percy had helped Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hide for the last few months, and that the fight was over. Percy still wouldn't be moving back in with his family, but he had made it clear to everyone that he regretted his mistake, and told them all that he would be attending family holidays once more. Apparently Ron wasn't buying any of it; the letter Percy had sent to him warning Ron about Harry was still on his mind.

Lavander and Parvati disappeared often into their dormitory. Hermione had told Harry and Ron that they were trying on all of the robes they had left behind, putting on a sort of fasion show in their room.

Seamus and Dean were to be seen playing Exploding Snap or Gobstones in the Great Hall on a regular basis. Ron once challenged them to a game of Wizards Chess, playing for a few Chocolate Frogs, trick wands, and Skiving Snackboxes. Ron beat them horribly.

Neville was hardly seen anymore. Harry saw him once, walking three times past a wall on the seventh floor opposite a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by three trolls. Harry never asked him what appeared in the Room of Requirement when he entered, and considered it a private matter to be delt with by Neville.

And as for Harry, he had spent a lot of time on his own. Sometimes he took his Firebolt out to fly around the field, and sometimes he locked himself in his dormitory, sitting quietly on his bed, looking through his photo album.

Seeing those people returning to Hogwarts after so long affected Harry somehow. It made him feel that merely taking someone's home could not destroy them. Life went on, homeless or not.

The Ministry of Magic was still under Voldemort's control, and would be until the Ministry could regroup and attempt to regain possession of it, much as they had Hogwarts. Harry had a feeling that the battle for the Ministry of Magic wouldn't be quite as successful as the battle for Hogwarts, but the outcome was yet to be seen.

Harry saw Cho enter the gates, walking alone, her eyes turned towards her feet. He wondered why her friends were still not surrounding her. Behind Cho, looking as merry as ever, was Luna Lovegood, looking as though she were taking a stroll through the park. It was strange how even the most traumatic events could not dampen her spirits.

A noise behind Harry made him wheel around. It was Hermione entering through the portrait hole, Crookshanks clutched in her arms. The cat, it turned out, had been lurking around the grounds. He had made a reappearance a few days ago, dirty and underfed, but glad to see his owner back.

"I've been watching from the corridor window," she informed him.

Harry gave a weak sort-of nod and turned back around. He felt her presence beside him.

"I met with Dumbledore this morning. He told me there will be a memorial service tonight to honor those lost. He wanted to know if you'd like to say a few words about Sirius."

Harry kept his eyes focused on the line of trees that led to the Forbidden Forest. "It doesn't matter what I'd say," he said slowly. "They still wouldn't understand."

Hermione had the courtesy to leave him alone with his thoughts. He wasn't sure whether he wanted her to stay or not, but before he could consider his options, the portrait hole had clicked shut. His eyes were still trained on the Forbidden Forest. Draco Malfoy's body had been recovered not long after the battle. His mother, who, apparently, had never been a Death Eater, came and collected his body shortly, and left.

Snape's body had been removed from the castle. Harry didn't know where it had ended up, but did know that he did miss his Potions Master in an odd sort of way. He may have loathed the man, but without him, Harry would have died.

Harry saw Dumbledore striding across the grounds towards the gates, and saw him shake hands with a hunched figure with a grizzly long mane of hair and wooden leg. He then shook hands with a woman with bubble gum pink hair, and then a man with grey-flecked hair and a tired face.

Harry felt a sense of pride whenever he saw members of the Order of the Phoenix. He didn't quite know why, but it felt almost as if they were knights in shining armor, coming to save the world.

Harry let out a deep breath he wasn't aware he had been holding, and leaned most of his weight on the sill. The sun was going down, casting a pink glow on the world. 

Another day was done, and a new one was about to begin, just as the battle for Hogwarts had just ended, and the battle for the Ministry of Magic was about to begin. All that was needed was a little bit of luck, strategy, and the need, want, and will to survive, and maybe. . . just maybe. . . the Wizarding world would make it through this.

**__**

Fin

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A/N Thanks to all of my reviewers, i couldn't do it without you! I'm looking for suggestions for my next story, so if anyone has any ideas, please write! thanks a bunch. hang loose.

felony melanie


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